It felt like time had stopped. I'd gotten home early from work after my boss had thoroughly broken me in (along with half a dozen other guys he'd lined up). My hole had gone from virgin territory to a cumdump in a matter of hours. And even though the part of my ego that was still attached to my identity as a straight man was fighting it, Jack had seriously accelerated my transformation. There was no denying the reality of becoming a designated bottom. Even though that reality was hard to believe given how mysterious the whole process was.
When the world first shifted a few years ago and the ratio of dudes I knew who were straight versus the ones who were bi or gay had flipped overnight, I accepted it. There were too many people I knew personally to deny it had happened. Even if being one of the few remaining 100% straight dudes had denied me the reality of personally experiencing it. And when it shifted again more recently and I heard the stories of men suddenly being overcome with the desire to take as much dick and cum as possible, I accepted it. Sure, it was strange, and I found it hard to understand since it wasn't happening to me. But now it was happening to me. And instead of just getting a little bit gay, what was happening to me was the far more drastic option of the two. A week ago, I was looking at pulling chicks. And now? Now I was getting dropped off by my boss with a hole full of cum, and the knowledge that this was to be my reality. And with the fear of how good it was starting to feel to give into this new cock lust.
I'd managed to avoid my roommates the last few days when I first noticed the change coming on. The events of the day really pulled me off my guard, though. I was still unsure if Art would be able to tell, but Clyde had already explained that experienced tops can tell a designated bottom by just looking into their eyes. And here I was, standing in the doorway to our living room, eyes locked on his. I still felt slick from the loads, lube, and saliva in my hole. I felt myself tense up, and held my breath hoping for whatever reason he wouldn't notice. That's when I saw it. The now familiar nostril flare when a top sets his sight on whatever designated bottom walked into his path.
"Holy fuck," Clyde breathed more to himself.
My face went flush. I opened my mouth to say something. Anything. No words came out at all, and in fact I hadn't stopped holding my breath.
Clyde stood up. The first good look I've gotten of him since the change. I can't count my ogling of him in passing. He was wearing a tank top. His arms looked good. Really good. Must have been arm-day at the gym. And of course he was wearing sweatpants. Fucking grey sweatpants had started to become an anxiety trigger. More accurately, it's more like I felt anxiety at the other feelings they were actually triggering. I could clearly see the outline of his cock, and I could tell it was stiffening. I wondered if this is just how it happened when we ran into Art's younger brother Patrick who'd just become a designated bottom a few weeks ago himself. But when I looked back up at his face, I saw something different. Not just lust. It was there. I've gotten plenty of similar stares the last few days. There was something else there with it, though.
"Dude... are you okay?" Clyde asked. Once more I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I did feel some tears start to well up in my eyes. I was terrified. More terrified now than I'd been when Jack realized what I'd become this morning. I was terrified that becoming a designated bottom... becoming a cumdump, a dick-pig, of becoming whatever other nastier terms dudes called designated bottoms behind their back. That it would change how Clyde or Art would look at me. And it clearly has. Clyde stepped forward and I wasn't sure what to expect. Would he jump me? Start making out with me? Push me to my knees? My answer came in his arms gently surrounding me and pulling me close. I tensed again, but as my head landed in the dip of his shoulder, I felt my own arms wrap around him and squeeze him tight. A quiet moment of some tenderness. I wasn't expecting it. Since Art and I walked in on Clyde pile-driving Art's little brother, I assumed it was all hard fucking with him. We pulled apart, and he looked at me again with that same mix of lust and tender care. "Seriously... are you?"
"I- I don't know... I've been in a state of panic... I- I--"
"Shhh it's okay," Clyde said gently as he put his hand on my shoulder. "You are like the straightest guy I know... or were," I cringed at that. "I'd guess this is really hard to handle..."
"That sounds like... a fucking understatement." My eyes glanced down to his crotch. His dick had grown harder. It was full on tenting his pants. "I'm terrified..."
"Dude, you are like family to me. I won't let anyone make you do anything you don't want to do. Including me," he put his hand under my face and lifted me by the chin. Clearly trying to break the line of sight I had on his cock. "I mean it... this shit happens," he gestured towards his hard-on. "But nothing has to-" he took a breath. Like he was getting choked up a bit. Was he emotional? Or was he choked up fighting his now overwhelming urge to unload his balls into my hole? Probably both all things considered. As much as I was here feeling like an emotional wreck, I knew I was fighting the urge to drop to my knees.
"I'm not afraid of... being forced... or I guess maybe I am a little... Some guys are really..." I blushed a bit again," aggressive..." I managed to make a weak smile which Clyde returned with a look that said he knew what I meant. "I'm more afraid of... of what I want to do." I let that hang in the air for a moment.
"That makes sense, dude. Patrick said it was the same for him."
"He did? I didn't realize you two talked about that kind of stuff..."
"Well, yeah! I know some guys are the cum-and-go type, but Patrick is Art's little brother! He's not just a piece of meat..." Clyde sounded offended momentarily.
"Sorry... I just never really knew what gay sex was like, and today I uhm... I kind of got a crash course? I guess I was starting to assume it was all like that..." I turned back to look at Clyde and he was staring at me with lust in his eyes, and a new sense of curiosity. "What?"
"A crash course? I'm not sure if asking for the details will stop my imagination from running wild." Then he smiled that big goofy grin he did when he made a dumb joke. I couldn't help but crack a smile too. Then his got wider, and he grabbed his hard dick that at this point had started leaking precum through his sweatpants. "Clearly my imagination is getting the best of me." And I was just tired and confused and a bit relieved enough to start laughing. We both laughed for a bit, and then as it faded, he looked at me again and his face got more serious. "But dude... you are still my best friend. So, if you are worried that I'll just view you as a piece of ass you don't have to worry."
"Thanks, Clyde... I really needed to hear that..." We both stopped talking and laughing, but our eyes stayed locked. And now we were in this strange nebulous bit of tension. The, "What happens next," bit of tension. As his wing-man, I'd seen Clyde be so cool and confident with all sorts of people he wanted to pick up. I'd never seen him look so... nervous. So unsure of himself. Like a champion river-dancer being asked to express themselves with their hands. I could see him swallow hard. Like he was gathering courage. Then he slowly leaned in. Closer and closer, and I didn't pull back. And as his face got closer to mine than I think it ever had been before, I felt my eyes close as if on instinct. I felt the heat of his face first, and then his lips on mine, and suddenly our hands were on each other. He kissed me deeply. I wondered if it would bother him to know about the dick and cum I'd tasted with this mouth. I doubt it would, but I still wondered.
