You weren't really able to get much in the way of sleep though, finding that as exhausted as your body currently was your mind was very much still awake, replaying many of the days events over and over again...
You'd had amazing...yet incredibly awkward sex with Randall. You then basically had to pretend like it never even happened, while at the same time being made to feel as if you had somehow done something wrong. You'd been tossed to the side at furniture store like you were nothing, then ditched while Randall went and played 'grown up' with Mrs. Walsh. And then, to top it all off, you were the one who had to drive him home and help him into bed because he'd got drunk off his ass while you hung about in a car park all night!
It really had been some day. Less two buddies hanging out and having fun as was promised, and more you being made to feel incredible awkward and frustrated, and basically like some spare part Randall didn't even need. It was absolutely crazy! Though really, the whole Mrs. Walsh thing wasn't really his fault - what else was he supposed to do given the situation? He was supposed to be 'Laura Card', high school teacher and adult, he couldn't exactly be seen goofing around with you now could he? Still, recognizing that didn't exactly make you feel any better about the situation. Nor did the sex, which you really wished you could in someway acknowledge, instead of just letting it hang there.
Speaking of sex, Allison was also very much on your mind. The girlfriend that you'd basically been ignoring just as much as she had you. How were you going to resolve things there? Could you even, after what you and Randall had done...twice now? You hoped so. You had been going out for well over a year and a half and you really, really did like her. You didn't want to let that relationship just slip away, all because you'd been distracted...
"Ack! This is no use!" you groaned, realizing you were never going to get to sleep with your head swimming like this, pushing yourself up and looking over at the clock to see what the time was. "Shit...not even two yet!" you realized, it having felt like a hell of a lot longer that you'd just been lying here, desperately trying to will yourself to sleep (very much needing it after how long you'd stayed up the night before). Admitting defeat then, figuring that if you couldn't sleep you might as well do something to occupy your mind. you sat up on the sofa and looked over towards the television, and the Xbox connect to it. Deciding that perhaps a few games of COD would be a good distraction for a while, giving you the opportunity to take some of the days frustrations out on enemy soldiers with a large machine gun, you switched on a nearby lamp to give yourself some light and starting the thing up.
However, after only about fifteen or so minutes of playing, you found that you were unable to properly focus on what you were doing - dying over and over again. Usually you had Randall as an opponent (barely ever playing it on your own) and without all his funny little jabs and taunts, you actually found it to be kind of boring. Giving up on that for now, you got up and yawned, deciding to stretch your legs for a bit as you wandered aimlessly around the living room, finding yourself drawn once again to all the various photos of Miss. Card (the real Miss. Card) decorating one particular shelf. Looking at them - at how happy she seemed - you wondered for a moment how strange it must be for Randall to be surrounded by stuff like this...reminders of a life that wasn't his own. All of Miss. Card's parents, family and friends were there in the photos, but what about Randall's? His own parent's had obviously removed themselves completely from the equation, but what about everyone else? What must it be like to have your entire existence taken away from you and be **** to live as someone else? To be told who you friends are, what you like to do and how you must behave? You really couldn't even begin to imagine.
Moving on from the pictures then, with Randall once again front and center of your mind, you found yourself wandering down the hallway in the direction of his bedroom, not entirely sure why. You supposed you just wanted to check up on him, see if he is still okay after how wasted he'd been earlier - or at least you told yourself that as you slowly turned the door handle and peered inside. There you found Randall, fast asleep, still lying on the bed where you'd left him in nothing but that little pink g-string. He had rolled himself over though, his head now being buried face down in one of his pillows, while an arm and a leg hung lifelessly off one side of the bed. Still, it was quite a sight, even with only a sliver of light from out in the hallway illuminating the room - seeming to bounce off those two big, perfectly round globes of flesh that was his ass, almost as if they were their very own moons.
"Fuck me..." you heard yourself whisper, still captivated by the sight even after all the glimpses you'd so far had. Randall really did have the most incredible ass, it was almost ridiculous. No, scratch that...it was ridiculous! It was all ridiculous! Your best friend of thirteen years - the tall, gangley kid who everyone used to make fun of and was absolutely useless when it came to getting girls - he now possessed the kind of ass you used to go to bed dreaming about (and still do). Not to mention the breasts...And the body! He was now literally your fantasy woman. How totally fucked up was that? And how fucked up was it that even though you knew all this, even though you knew that there was a total Doofus inside that amazing body, you still couldn't help but get turned on looking at him?
Shaking this thought off and tiptoeing your way inside, still telling yourself that you were just making sure he wasn't going **** on his own puke or anything, you moved towards the end of the bed and stood there for a moment watching him sleep. This was a rare opportunity to run your eyes up and down the entire length of his exceptional feminine form unhindered for once, so you thought while you were here you might as well take it. Noticing as you did, a large portion of Randall's right breast (the one not currently covered by an arm) was still visible even while he was on his back - the soft doughy mass of flesh being squashed between his body and the bed, but still looking no less impressive because of it - you couldn't help by let out a little chuckle of amazement, asking yourself, "How the hell does anyone actually get a pair of tits that big?" They really were huge, and the knowledge that they were somehow still growing (however that even worked) only increased the arousal you know felt standing there looking at the beautiful, creamy mound - a part of you now desperately wanting to reach out and touch it...
Thankfully though, a much clearer-thinking part stopped your, knowing fine well that doing so would be a step too far. This was still just Randall after all, and even after all you'd done two-three weeks ago and again this morning, feeling up your best friend's breast in the middle of the night without his say so was just wrong on so many levels! Instead then, your attention turned towards the floor, beneath Randall's hanging arm where you spotted the large, lacy pink bra that you had helped him discard earlier, reminding you again of your desire to actually find out just how big those mammoth breasts really were.
Creeping quietly towards it, you carefully reached down and picked the garment off the floor, finding it somewhat of a novelty to actually be holding one - especially one so large. Though the actual straps weren't all that big, the cups were huge and for a moment you considered actually measuring one against your own head, before deciding instead to quickly locate the tag, wanting to sate a curiosity that had been growing in you for some time (over a year in fact - ever since those massive miracles of nature had first bounced their way into class)."No way!" you heard yourself gasp as you read the size on the back of the label, quickly covering your mouth for fear of waking Randall. 32H it said, 32H! This wasn't a bra, it was a boulder holder! Who the hell had ever heard of 32H boobs? The biggest chested girl you'd ever heard of (apart from your Aunt who was really kind of chunky) was Claudia Reynolds, a girl two years above you at school, who if rumors were to be believed actually wore a double E cup. But now here was Miss. Card...Randall even, with a 32H bra, and even it, you had since realized, didn't actually fit properly anymore! Just how big was he now?
Removing your eyes from the bra tag and looking over at that big soft and squishy mountain bulging out from beneath Randall's sleeping body, all you could do was shake your head as you absorbed this information, repeating to yourself as you did, 32H...fuck me! over and over again in your mind.
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