Alice at your front door

You awaken to the sound of a loud knocking at your dorm door. Your eyes popping open and suddenly aware of the light streaming into your room.

The light is harsh against your eyes and the continued knocking is an equally harsh sound against your ears. Everything is still a little sore, but you can at least move now. Your balls ache for some reason, a definite knot in your sleeping shorts but it's just barely bearable, and your stomach hurts like you haven’t eaten in days. You groggily peel yourself out of bed, your sweaty sheets sticking to your skin until you sit up from the mattress. You stretch and look around your dorm room, noticing the window open, the blinds open, and that your alarm clock says 3:15 PM. You do a double take, and rub your eyes just to be sure. You just lost an entire day of class, your perfect attendance eviscerated. You feel your shoulders drop.

You wonder to yourself how you managed to lose a whole day sleeping. The impatient knocking comes again, faster than before. You drop down from your bed gently, making contact with the ground and stand on weak legs.

You stumble over the pile of clothes in the middle of your room and into the kitchen, going for the pantry and pulling out a workout protein bar to satiate the hole in your stomach.

You tear open the protein bar and are halfway through inhaling it when you notice a pair of notes on the table. The first one you recognize the handwriting as Mark’s as you lean over it.

Hey John!

Just wanted to let you know that Bennie and I already left. You didn’t look too good when I passed through this morning, so I chose not to wake you up. Hope you’re feeling better soon. I left you some leftover homemade chicken noodle soup in the fridge that should help you a lot. Also I opened the window to get some fresh air in the place. Remember to drink water! See you Monday!

Mark

Then you notice something scrawled in the corner, pointing at the other paper.

P.S. Dude, what is this all about??? Was she here last night???

You look at the other note and instantly know who it’s from just from the neat, small print handwriting. You pick the note up as the knocking starts again, and you read it quickly in the slow steps that it takes you to get to the door.

John,

I realized that you don’t have my phone number so here it is. Call or text me when you wake up so I know you’re alive.

Sincerely,

Alice

You eyeball her phone number and tuck the note into the waistband of your sleeping shorts as you reach the door, protein bar already consumed.

You look through the door’s peephole and feel yourself deflate just that much further. Alice is standing there, a school bag in hand, knocking on the door with a frown.

“Really?” you smack your lips and take a steadying breath and peer through the peephole again as she just keeps knocking. Then you clear your throat, “Who is it?” shocked to discover how hoarse you sound.

“It’s Alice!” comes the quick reply. There’s a long pause as she stands there, frowning and waiting, and you stand there, equally waiting.

The moment passes and you sigh, and unlock the door. As you open the door Alice’s eyes meet yours in widened surprise, her eyebrows raised slightly. Her hair is down, wearing another one of her sweaters that hides her figure quite well.

“Were you?” she asks half a question, looking you up and down.

“Sleeping?” you add, “yeah,” then fight down a yawn, shielding your eyes from the harsh afternoon light. Despite sleeping the day away you are still downright exhausted.

“Oh,” Alice replies, her frown softening slightly, “are you going to invite me in or?”

“Oh,” you say, looking back over your shoulder at the note on the kitchen table, “yeah, uh, come on in,” and move out of the way, letting Alice step past you, carrying her bag towards the kitchen.

“I was really worried when you didn’t show up to the archives today―” she says, suddenly jolting to a stop as if struck in the middle of the living room.

“You good?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Yeah,” Alice replies, suddenly sounding breathless.

“So, you were saying?” you say as you casually walk by her, rummaging around in the kitchen cabinet for another protein bar.

“I was saying,” says Alice, shaking her head, “that I was worried today when you didn’t show up to the archives, so I decided to come check on you.”

“Ok,” you reply, inhaling the second protein bar in just three bites flat.

“So, uhh―” Alice says, watching you as you pull out a third protein bar from the pantry.

You swallow, “what?” you ask.

“Are you feeling better?” she says, looking at you with concern as you wolf down the third protein bar in short order with a resounding gulp.

“I’ve had worse.” You sigh, staring at the pantry in the kitchen.

“Where’s your roommate?” she asks.

“Left a note,” you say, “went camping for the weekend, why?”

“Can’t imagine it’s fun taking care of yourself after getting hurt,” she replies, setting her bag down on the table

“I’ve been managing,” you shrug. You have most certainly not been managing. You have been getting managed. Entangled in possible Faustian bargains with gods and all.

“Huh,” Alice huffs.

“What?” you ask, following her gaze to the table and Mark’s note, “oh.”

“Are you still hungry?” she asks, glancing at you and then back at the note.

“Kinda,” you say, looking in the pantry at the suddenly much emptier box of protein bars.

“In that case, let me warm up this soup,” she says, pausing to adjust her glasses while looking at the note, “Mark left for you.”

“Thanks,” you reply, and watch her get to work.

She takes down your apron from the rack, puts her hair up into a low ponytail, and starts rummaging through your fridge, but honestly, you’re too tired and too hungry to stop her even if you wanted to.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you say, stretching and suddenly aware of your own odor and figuring that might help you feel better.

“Ok,” Alice replies, carrying the soup pot from the fridge to the stove top.

You shovel the pile of dirty clothes on your floor into the hamper and grab a towel and a change of clothes and walk into the bathroom. You peel your sweaty clothes off you down to your briefs and turn on the hot water. As you do you catch a glance of an unfamiliar figure in the bathroom mirror. You do a double take. You take slow steps to the mirror as if you’ll worried you will scare them off.

“Christ,” you audibly whisper. Your body looks tighter, muscles better defined. No popping biceps or quads like a bodybuilder would have, but you can see that your everything is definitely more muscular from how you remember it being.

You pose, and then pose again, watching your muscles extending and flexing under your skin. You snap-pose and point at yourself in the mirror, “how you doing, baby?” you drawl with a stupid grin.

“Don’t I look good,” you laugh under your breath while rubbing your chin, steam starting to obscure the mirror.

You peel your briefs off and are surprised again. Again, your cock is subtly different but mostly the same. You give it a few tentative pumps, the foreskin peeling away from the head, but only as far as just below the glans. You look at it in your hand, and squint at it. It’s definitely a little longer, and girthier in the middle, the head a bit bigger and more flaring than you remember. You click your tongue.

“Need a ruler,” you state, looking at the bathroom door. You tentatively feel your balls, which you’d guess are almost golf ball sized and ache like all Hell.

You look at the door again and frown, weighing the cost and benefits of jacking off in the shower to calm your nerves and empty your aching balls before going back out there to face off with Alice.

OCC: Please remember to comment on which path you want me to work on first!