His Perfect Lover

Eric opened his eyes slowly, his head heavy, his body feeling pleasant and sore at the same time. The smell of melted butter and frying bacon crept from the kitchen, mixing with the heavy scent of sweat and cum rising from the sheets. He sat up, his abs aching from last night’s movements, and the memories flooded him at once: Tim’s enormous ass trembling on him, the high moans, the small hands pulling him deeper. He felt a strange, warm pride, as if he’d done something right, but immediately remembered the curse and his heart trembled. He tried to shake the thought— “It’s not me, it’s the curse”—but the pride didn’t vanish.

He looked around the room and froze. Last night the room had been a battlefield: crumpled, cum- and sweat-stained sheets, pillows thrown on the floor, torn clothes scattered, dry white stains on the carpet, even a handprint smeared with cum on the wall. Now? Everything was impeccably clean. The floor gleamed, the rug looked vacuumed three times, the windows sparkled, the closet was organized, the pillows arranged perfectly, even the air was fresh with a faint lemon hint.

He put on clean boxers he found folded on the chair that wasn’t there yesterday and went to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him nearly knocked him over.

Tim stood by the stove, dressed in a classic French maid outfit straight out of the dirtiest movies: a tiny black skirt that barely covered anything, his enormous ass protruding beneath it like two glossy bowling balls, white lace trimming the edges and fluttering with every movement. Above were black thigh-high stockings with lace tops, a thin black blouse with a deep cleavage emphasizing his small, delicate chest, a small white apron tied around his narrow waist, and a little white ribbon in his hair. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes big and shiny, and the ass… God, the ass swayed in a gentle rhythm as he stirred the eggs in the pan. Every motion made the cheeks bounce lightly, the soft flesh moving like waves, and the sight was so perfect that Eric’s cock twitched immediately in his boxers.

“Good morning,” Tim called, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He turned, the skirt lifting and exposing even more of the perfect ass. Eric sat at the dining corner chair, trying to compose himself, and managed to mumble, “Good morning. How did you sleep?” Tim asked. Eric, confused, said, “Okay… I guess. How about you?” Tim replied, “Pretty well. I woke up about an hour ago and immediately gave you a blowjob.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “The urge?” he asked, and Tim nodded. “No. I chose to. I learned yesterday how the urges work. They have a little mind of their own, but if you give them what they want willingly, they don’t take over.” He continued stirring, the ass still swaying in perfect rhythm. “And then I saw the mess in the room… the cleaning urge went into turbo. I put on a simple shirt and leggings, but they suddenly turned into this,” he rotated his hips and the skirt lifted a bit more, “and then I just… cleaned everything. While you slept like a baby.”

Eric blinked. “How didn’t I hear anything?” Tim answered, “Probably my urge to clean for you turned me into a pro. Just like the cooking urge makes me an excellent chef. I just… do it perfectly.”

Eric stared at Tim open-mouthed. “You cleaned the whole room… in an hour?” Tim let out a short, dry laugh, without the exaggerated warmth from last night. “Ten minutes, actually. The rest of the time I went shopping.” He lifted a huge silver tray and placed it in the center of the table in a smooth motion. The sight nearly made Eric drop his jaw again.

The tray was loaded like a luxury hotel buffet: two thick, juicy medium-rare steaks glistening with butter and rosemary, three fluffy scrambled eggs with melted cheese, a pile of bacon so crispy it cracked with noise, mildly spicy roasted potatoes, golden pancakes with real maple syrup, a bowl of oatmeal with fresh berries, and a large pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice with floating ice. Everything looked and smelled like a five-star restaurant, but in quantities for three hungry bodybuilders.

Eric wiped drool from his mouth. “You went out… like that?” Tim replied, “The curse let me change my clothes to something ‘normal.’ Meaning tight white jeans that almost tore on my ass, a tiny pink crop top showing my entire belly and back, white heels, and a small pink bag. Still looked like I came from a porn set, but at least not in the maid outfit.”

Eric started devouring as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. Every bite was amazing; the long night had truly drained him. He looked up and saw Tim wasn’t touching anything. “You’re not eating?” he asked. Tim raised a tall glass bottle in foggy pink-purple. “This is enough for me.” “What is it exactly?” “Fruit shake,” Tim said quietly. “Strawberries, banana, mango, almond milk, a bit of vanilla protein… the urge won’t let me eat too many ‘fattening’ calories. Otherwise I’ll lose the curves.”

Eric swallowed a huge bite. “Is it tasty?” Tim smiled a small, mischievous smile—the first genuine one this morning. “It’ll be the best shake in the world after I add the secret ingredient.” He stood, heels clicking on the floor, circled the table, and sat on Eric’s lap without asking permission. His thin hand slid into the boxers, pulled out the huge cock already starting to harden, and began massaging it with precise, professional motions, as if he’d done it a thousand times. Thumb caressing the sensitive head, fingers lightly pressing the underside vein, the other palm circling the large balls in round motions.

Eric almost choked on the steak. “Tim, what are you doing?” But Tim didn’t answer, just continued his motion despite the visible smile and excitement on his face. He kept massaging in a steady, precise rhythm, like a machine built specifically for this. Within minutes Eric’s face reddened, he moaned, “I’m… about to…” Tim aimed the cock straight over the bottle, and the white, thick cum shot out in powerful streams, filling the shake until it almost overflowed. One drop landed on Tim’s wrist, and he licked it quickly, savoring the taste.

He returned to his chair, stirred the mixture with a few quick swirls until it was uniform pink-white, then raised the bottle and drank it all in one long gulp. He sighed lightly, licked his lips. “Now it’s the tastiest shake I’ve ever had.”

The table was covered in empty plates, only a few drops of orange juice left in the glass pitcher, and the smell of steaks and bacon still filled the bright morning kitchen. Eric leaned back, full belly and relaxed body, and watched Tim arrange the dishes with excessive precision, as if every plate needed to be exactly a millimeter from the next. “So,” he finally said, “what now?”

Tim wiped his hands on a small towel, his gaze serious. “I think the curse is too strong to break alone.” He briefly told about yesterday: the new office, Lucy becoming his best friend, the suddenly united and loving parents, the album and pink diary proving they’d been a couple since high school. “Reality changed completely. We won’t succeed alone.”

Eric straightened. “So, we find Hildi. Or someone else.” Tim shook his head immediately. “No. Remember the addition to the curse she gave me just because I annoyed her. If we anger her, she can make our situation much worse than now. Best to just survive the month and tell her whatever she wants to hear at the end of it. There’s no way to fail, only to survive.”

He set down the towel and sat across from Eric. “So, I suggest some guidelines for the coming month.” He raised one finger. “First, we will fuck and fuck a lot. Every day and every way. Better we schedule it ourselves than have the urges surprise us mid-day.” Eric burst into short laughter. “Good idea. Don’t want to start fucking in the middle of a fire, right?” “Exactly,” Tim raised a second finger. “Second, we tell no one about the curse. Not friends, not family, no one. Otherwise we’ll find ourselves in an asylum.” Eric nodded immediately; the logic was ironclad. “Third, I think we should minimize using our urges as much as possible.” “Why?” Eric asked. “When we use the urges, we become more and more like our current versions in our minds. Hildi will probably keep all our memories from this month so we don’t forget the lesson she’s trying to teach. And we don’t want the opposite situation where we have our original bodies but this world’s minds.”

Eric accepted Tim’s logic and wondered if he wanted to add anything, then remembered. “There’s something I have to say.” He took a deep breath, heart pounding. “Yesterday… when I was at work… I cheated on you.” Tim didn’t understand what he meant, and Eric told him everything that happened at the gym with Tiffany and the blowjob she gave him. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t matter but in this life we’re a couple, and it felt like cheating. I didn’t want secrets between us.”

The kitchen suddenly went quiet. Tim stood slowly, his gaze dark, and Eric shrank in his chair, ready for scolding, yelling, anything. But Tim just looked at him for a long moment, then asked in complete silence: “Just one question.” Eric swallowed. “Yes?” “Was my blowjob better?”

The tension broke. Eric burst into relieved laughter, and Tim smiled a small, mischievous smile. “You’re in another galaxy.” Tim knelt in front of him immediately, thin hands pulling the half-hard cock from the boxers. “If we want my blowjobs to stay in another galaxy, I need lots of practice.” He took it all in his mouth in one breath, tongue swirling, throat opening, and Eric moaned and leaned back.

In the middle of the deep sucking Tim released for a moment, tongue still caressing the head, and mumbled, “By the way, I need your computer password.” Eric, lost in pleasure, moaned, “Why?” Tim smiled a wide, mysterious smile, eyes sparkling. “You’ll see.” Then he went back to swallowing him to the root, and the kitchen filled again with wet sounds and morning moans.

This month, it seemed, was going to be long. And very, very busy.

That same day Eric sank deep into his black-red gaming chair, the kind that always felt like a throne in his previous life. The three huge screens cast blue-reddish light on his tense face, sounds of gunfire and exploding zombies shaking the wall-mounted speakers. He gripped the mouse handle as if his life depended on it, but his fingers were heavy, movements sloppy, as if every click required superhuman effort. Despite knowing this stage blind—he once cleared it in just 11 minutes—now every headshot demanded insane focus.

The reason was clear: under the desk, between his spread legs, Tim knelt for half an hour already, warm, wet mouth enveloping Eric’s cock fully, sucking slowly and steadily, soft tongue caressing the underside vein every time he was about to shoot a zombie’s head. Every character jump in the game made Tim go deeper, as if syncing himself to the game’s rhythm.

Eric breathed heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead, arm muscles tense to the point of pain. He almost died twice but kept going, fearing that if he died now—Tim would stop, even though both knew it would never happen. Finally, after what felt like eternity, the screen flashed huge green: STAGE CLEAR – 92% ACCURACY.

The moment he saw the text, his whole body shuddered, hips lifting on their own, and the cock exploded in Tim’s mouth in powerful, hot, thick spurts. Eric moaned in a low, deep voice, head thrown back, and simply melted into the chair.

Under the desk, Tim rose slowly, swollen, glossy lips, chin covered in the last white drops. He wiped them with a delicate finger, slowly put it in his mouth and licked leisurely, as if it were the tastiest dessert in the world, then let out a light, high laugh. “Wow, that was a real challenge,” Eric said in a hoarse voice, still panting. Tim stood, wide, mischievous smile on his pink face. “But you succeeded like a champ, my dear knight.” They both burst into genuine laughter, the laughter of old friends who know it’s ridiculous but also perfect at the same time.

Tim crossed the room in small, swaying steps, his enormous ass moving with every step, until he reached the other side—his pink world. He lowered himself slowly into his huge baby-pink gaming chair; the chair groaned under the weight of the fat, solid ass, the juicy cheeks squishing and spreading beyond the sides, the pink fabric stretching to the tearing point.

In front of him stood a white-pink sparkling desk with unicorn, panda, and flower stickers, three curved screens with gold-pink frames, LED lighting changing with the now-flowing music—light, sweet J-pop beats. On the desk stood strawberry-flavored water bottles, heart-shaped lip gloss, a small mirror with lights, and an anime-boy figurine with pink ears. His headphones were huge pink ones with sparkling cat ears, and the mouse—a gaming mouse shaped like a white bunny with long ears and a pink pom-pom tail.

Tim wore the ultimate e-thot outfit: a tiny pink crop top with “Be My Player 2 ♡” in sparkling letters, the thin fabric clinging to smooth skin and exposing the flat belly and narrow waist; a pink lace push-up bra pushing the small chest forward and creating a sweet, tempting cleavage; a pink-black pleated micro-skirt barely covering a third of the ass, lifting completely when he sat and exposing tiny pink thong panties with a small back bow—the thin strap disappearing entirely between the plump cheeks; thin pink-white striped stockings with tiny kitten-and-heart drawings, stretched to the thick thigh so soft thigh fat spilled over the top like cream; high pink platform shoes with white straps winding around delicate ankles; and a thin pink choker with a small bell ringing with every movement.

He grabbed the bunny mouse, clicked unpause, and his game—a cute house-cleaning game where he cleaned huge mansions while his character jumped and danced—resumed. Within minutes he finished the stage at 100%, cleaning every corner, every window, every stain. He let out a small, very feminine squeal, jumped lightly in place from excitement—and the enormous ass trembled and bounced in slow, seductive waves, cheeks jiggling like two giant jelly balls, the choker bell ringing, the stockings stretching further until thigh fat spilled over them like cream.

Tim tried playing games from Eric’s computer but found them uninteresting. Even games he knew he’d played in his previous life bored him. Urge or no urge, he couldn’t ignore how much pleasure his own computer’s games gave him.

Eric, who had just recovered, looked at him and couldn’t tear his gaze away. His heart pounded hard, half from desire and half from confusion. His best friend, the one they used to play tournaments with until morning, drink beers, and talk about girls—was now bouncing in front of him like the most perfect femboy he’d ever seen, pink, sweet, horny, and completely his. He swallowed, his cock already starting to harden again just from the sight, and felt the words stuck in his throat: this isn’t how it’s supposed to be… but God, it feels so right.