"Wakey-wakey, Timmy-boy..." you heard a soft voice call out, awakening you from your slumber. Followed soon after by a pillow to the face. "Rise and shine!
"Ow! What the hell, dude...?" you groaned, pulling the pillow off your head and opening your eyes. Being greeted by the sight of a grinning, partially clothed Miss. Card.
"It's time to get your fat ass out of bed. There's work to be done," Randall said, hovering above you. Looking just as beautiful in his early morning splendor as he did riding your dick last night. His overly large breasts squished into another gigantic (though not quite gigantic enough) blue bra, while his lower half was clad in a matching pair of lacy boy shorts.
Wondering what he meant by this - your recently awakened brain still trying to process waking up in his bed after a positively mind blowing night of sexual ecstasy - you asked him, "Work? What do you mean work?" Surely he doesn't mean all the stuff around the house... Recalling how he'd joked about that 'having to wait' yesterday.
He wasn't. Pointing then to the very bed covers you were currently lying under (or at least half of you was). "Well, these sheets need changing for one thing. They've probably got your spunk all over them."
"...Oh" Okay, that made sense. Though the question remained - seeing as it was his house - "Why... why do I have to do it?"
"Because your my man-**** remember? ...My butler. It's your job."
"Wait a second," you protested, "I thought I was done doing all that. After last night..."
"Uh-uh-uhh," he told you, waving a finger dismissively. "The bet was for the entire weekend, dude. So get moving. Come on..." Yanking at the covers and pulling them off your still entirely naked body. "Chop-chop!"
Instinctively you quickly scrambled to cover up your junk, using both your hands and your legs, embarrassed at the possibility of being seen naked by your friend... as ludicrous as that now was. He might be comfortable wearing next to nothing and stripping off whenever he felt like, but you were still rather self conscious. Especially when he was acting as he was now - like the Randall you knew and loved, as apposed to the sexy seductress.
"Buh...but you said I was done..." you nervously responded, grabbing at a corner to cover yourself back up. "You gave me a 'reward', remember?" And what a reward it was...
Randall shook his head and chuckled (presumably both at your error, as well as your pointless attempts to hide your shame). "Done for the night, not the whole weekend, dude. Man-**** duties don't end till the clock hits twelve." Adding, "Plus, the reward was for you dressing up like a gimp. ...That and because I was feeling pretty horny." That much had been abundantly clear. The enthusiastic performance he gave in bed being evidence enough of that. Never mind his little acting performance.
"Now come on, stick those in the washer and throw on some new ones while I get dressed," he ordered you, pulling the sheet off your naked body again - or at least trying to - "and then you can see about making us some breakfast."
Giving up in this rather pointless game of tug-of-war, allowing him to yank the bed sheets clean off, you argued, "That's totally not fair. I'm not going through another day of that just because you used your 'womanly wiles' to win!" The bet having been a total fix in the first place, and some of the tasks he'd made you do (while not necessarily all that taxing), had been wearing a little thin by the time he'd coaxed you into bed. Even with him dressed like that, with those magnificent melons of his bobbing and jiggling around inside the soft material of his bra, you weren't going to give in this time without a proper fight.
Sensing this, he threw his hands into the air in surrender and said, "Alright, alright. I tell you what, sort those sheets out and we'll call it even, okay? Man-**** duties will be officially over." Coming up with a much fairer compromise. "You happy with that?"
"I guess so," you told him, glad that he hadn't tried to use any of those 'womanly wiles'. Against a body like that, all the will power in the world wouldn't do shit. It being just like he had said several weeks before, all he needed to do was bat his eyelashes now and guys would do whatever the hell he wanted. Only super hot women had that kind of power.
Leaving you to to your task then (which included hurriedly sliding your boxers back on), Randall headed towards his rather extensive closet and picked himself out a tight green sweater and a pair of jeans. The sight of the denim material sliding over his large, delectable derriere causing you to stop what you were doing and stare. Certain that his ass cheeks had also gotten ever so slightly larger with his recent weight gain. Their perfect orb like roundness enough to make you drool. Once done with that, he gave his long, dark red locks a quick brush and then headed downstairs to see what he could rustle up for breakfast. Unfortunately not having adequate supplies for another fried one. Having used all the bacon, eggs and sausages the day before. You meanwhile, disposed of the sex stained bed sheets and replaced them with clean ones. Jumping then into the shower and getting yourself dressed, before following your best friend down the stairs and stuffing the dirty linen into the washer as instructed.
"There. Man-**** duties are officially done for the day," you told him, wiping your hands. "Remind me not to make any more bets with you again."
"Ah, you're just saying that cause you lost. Would have been a different story if it was the other way round."
This was true enough. You couldn't really argue there... even though, admittedly, you did kind of both win and lose at the same time. Getting exactly what you'd wanted and more after Randall had had his fun.
With a breakfast of toast and cereal, you and Randall returned once again to the living room to talk and watch TV. After last nights discussion, you thought it best to leave the topic of sex well alone (not wanting to bite the horse that fed you), focusing instead on the usual mindless drivel you both often spouted when you were together. Girls, games, movies and who you thought would win in a fight - Coach Mullins or the Predator.
"Coach Mullins, totally!" was Randall's answer. "You seen the fucking arms on the dude? Plus the way he was growling at you and Bryce Friday night... I thought he was about to start chewing your faces off or something!"
"Wow, really? Was he really that pissed?" you asked, only really remembering bits and pieces of the exchange.
"Oh yeah! Bryce's ass is gonna be red raw the next time you see him. That's if he didn't butt fuck him to ****..."
"Jesus... " He was exaggerating of course, but still, It sounded like Coach Mullins could be pretty tough. "Poor Bryce. That really sucks he had to deal with Mullins and I got off so lightly." "Lightly" being an understatement. You were pretty sure - regardless of Randall's jokes - that the Coach hadn't taken Bryce home and fucked him. Not once, but three times! Still feeling rather guilty. Bryce had been trying to make you feel better after all.
Randall just laughed, however. Telling you then, "Don't sweat it, dude. I'm only joking. Mullins isn't really that bad. His bark's a lot worse than his bite. He'll just make him do a few extra push ups at training or something. Besides," he continued, breaking into a playful little grin, "I doubt anything he could do to him would be worse than dressing up in woman's underwear like a total gay-boy and then taken pictures. Who knows where they might end up..."
"Oh, screw you, Randall!" you yelped, suddenly remembering about the photos. Having forgotten they were still on his camera. "You're totally deleting those!"
"No way. I'm keeping those for posterity," he giggled. Jumping off the couch and scampering off into the hall. "You look so damn sexy!"
Chasing after him as he rushed upstairs to presumably hide the camera, what followed was a rather ridiculous chase around the house - much like the whole 'banana dick' incident back at Miss Card's old apartment. Randall joking about how he was going to send it to "your new best friend", Bryce, to see if he still thought you were quite so cool then. Thankfully it was short-lived, and after cornering Randall in the spare room and using your much greater masculine strength to overpower him, you deleted all the photos of yourself looking absolutely ridiculous and gave the camera back (not before taking a quick glance at some of the ones of Randall in that sexy-ass swimsuit from slightly earlier on in the day).
"Ah, you're just a big spoil sport!" Randall whined. Appearing slightly emasculated by the fact that you were so much stronger than him now. It clearly making him feel slightly ****.
It didn't last long though, and soon you were back downstairs shooting up Zombies on his XBox. Playing for a couple of hours before it was finally time to get some lunch.
"How does Pizza sound?" he asked, grabbing for another menu that was sitting on the coffee table. "Supplies are pretty low and we're kinda on a takeaway kick at the moment anyway. Might as well save ourselves some effort."
"Now I see why you're getting fat," you joked, getting a nudge in the elbow for your troubles.
Agreeing to Pizza and recalling something you'd both joked about yesterday after your Chinese had been delivered (as well as wanting to get a little payback for the whole dressing you up in his clothes), you told him, "But only on one condition..." Feeling rather bold.
"Oh, this sounds like it'll be good."
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