Monkeyboy is coming down from his orgasmic high and lines of worry begin to wrinkle his forehead again. "What am I doing... this is crazy! No sex is worth this." He hoists himself into a sitting position, although you're not sure whether he noticed that he just used his hand-like foot to adjust himself. "Please, sir. Can you change me back now? Maybe we can have some more fun tomorrow, but..." You sit up too and pull the young man close, stroking his well-groomed hair. "It's fine. You'll love this, Monkeyboy." You feel the delivery boy go tense in your arms. "Don't call me that. I'm Brock," he says quietly. You sigh. "Look, let's just sleep on it. We'll deal with it tomorrow, I'm feeling magicked out for the day." You don't want him to know that you really CAN'T change him again, even if you wanted to. Better he thinks you're some all-powerful warlock than him knowing about your magic ring and its limitations.
The missing link of a man begrudgingly accepts, and you spend the rest of the evening in the apartment together. Before long, both of you settle onto your comfortable couch together. You flip on the TV and let your altered mate put his legs up on you. You want to touch him, you're still so, so horny and a little power-drunk from all the control you have over Brock's body. Not that you intend to call him Brock for the time being.
You use your hands to massage the thick gorilla feet, rubbing your thumbs deep into the roughly calloused soles. God, these things turn you on so much now. Fetishes can really tap into some intense stuff, you think, trying to shift Monkeyboy's heels so they don't grind against your rigid 11-incher. The other man barely turns. He's still kind of mopey, and it's starting to irritate you. Hell, why are you hiding your dick? What's the point of having a monkeyboy if he doesn't get you off? The younger man is still focused on the screen, some brightly flashing game show, when you carefully adjust your fly and release your cock with one hand. You pull it through the opening in your boxers with some effort, and rub its length across the soles of the delivery boy's feet while you massage them. You barely have to move your hips at all. You're rock hard and the subtle movements of your body as your hands knead Monkeyboy's feet have you ready to burst. You focus. The sensation of your foreskin rubbing ever so slightly against his rough, beastly soles is enough to get you off. Your second load of the day sputters onto his feet and dribbles down the length of your cock. There must be some loss of sensation in his massive coal-colored feet, because Monkeyboy scarcely notices. He just flexes his finger-like toes and stares ahead. You work the cum into his fur, matting it in places, and tuck your cock back into your pants.
Later, while eating a banana (with his hands, you note with disappointment), he seems to notice something in his foot fur, but he shyly tries to ignore his own feet. It seems that just looking at them upsets him. How can someone whose body is becoming so fucking pleasurable be so embarrassed about it?
You spend the rest of the night dreaming up the younger man's next change. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep in your arms once you moved to your bedroom, the two of your spooning on your smaller bed. You tap out an alarm notification on your phone, you have something in mind for tomorrow.
---
By the time you get back to the apartment, Monkeyboy is just waking up. You hear him groan in the other room, shaking off his sleep. "Morning Monkeyboy!", you shout, hearing your words echo through the apartment. "Monkeyboy?", he mumbles as you walk into your bedroom. He pulls back the covers and sees his huge gray feet stretched out in front of him, wild black fur blending seamlessly into his sparse brown leg hairs. "Fuck. I thought that was a nightmare..." You smile. "Nope. But you don't have to be so dramatic. It's hot," you assert, putting down the animal carrier you were holding. You set your plastic bag of supplies down next to it and climb onto the bed. "What's that?," the delivery man asks, pressing his lips into a frown. "It's a surprise." You run your hand down the younger man's bare chest, squeezing his diminished package through his tight-fitting boxers. He lets out a sigh, unable to deny his obvious pleasure. Against his better judgement, you know the situation is turning him on.
You stand up before things get too hot and heavy, and head to the attached bathroom to freshen up a little. Staring at your aged face in the mirror, you apply some shaving cream and slide the magic ring onto your index finger. Picking up a razor, you call out through the door, trying to speak clearly. "So I was thinking, Monkeyboy, and this situation doesn't make sense." You drag the razor across your face, shaving your unfamiliar morning stubble away. The other man speaks passively, mumbling a muffled agreement from the other room. Something stirs in the animal carrier. He's clearly not catching your meaning. "So I went to the pet store. I think that all of this would feel more natural if other people saw you the way I did." Monkeyboy seems to protest, to ask some question, but you ignore it for now. You want to focus on his change.
You think about the animal you purchased from the pet store. You try to focus on its status in society, its status as your pet to be exact, and think of Brock, his status as a person in human society. You splash water across your face, washing away the remnants of shaving cream. You feel ready to face the day, and you're going to do it with Monkeyboy 2.0. You kiss the ring, and then open the door to the bedroom.
It should be interesting. After all, the animal that you brought home to use in the swap was...