Jolting awake from the strange dream, Max found himself completely disoriented.
Piecing together his surroundings, he found himself in a wholly unfamiliar location. He was sprawled uncomfortably, lying face down on a heaping, uneven pile of delicate crafting materials. All around him were fabrics and papers, bins filled with bits and bobs, and shelves littered with odds and ends.
Shaking off some of the sleep from his head, he noticed that his body felt hot, and oddly moist. The air around him was cold, yet he was sweating uncontrollably.
He placed his hands at his sides and slowly pushed himself away from the giant stockpile of crafting supplies that he found himself smothering. The action was accompanied by the indescribable feeling of his shirtless, sticky, sweaty torso pulling free from the many varied and unusual surfaces beneath him; garbage bags, rolls of fabric and batting, random cardboard shapes, and all manner of textiles and scrap materials all slowly became unstuck from his slick, greasy front. His immediate surroundings had been thoroughly bathed in his moist and offensively rancid body oils and sweat. As he pulled his torso up high enough, he finally got his first partial look at himself, but the sight was so unexpected, he didn't immediately recognize the appendages he saw as his own...
"Dad's hands!" He thought for a fleeting instant at the sight of the giant, burly squared and muscled mitts that were supporting him. They looked just like his Dad's giant strong hands. He lifted one up to inspect it closer. It wasn't his Dad's but he couldn't pull his eyes away. He was mesmerized by how similar they looked to his memory of his father's butch, callused hands. He couldn't resist the idea that they really were his dad's, and allowed himself to pretend they were, that his dad was there with him in part, if only for a moment...
Finally satisfied that he had indulged enough in fantasy, he proceeded to direct his attention past his hands. His arms looked swollen in a way, like slightly chubby versions of themselves but at the same time not as soft and fat as they had been... They were solid, lumpy and sinewy, like pieces of chewed gum that had been left in the freezer, rippling and flowing with healthy, teenage-toned curves and lumps of muscle that he had never before witnessed so intimately. The smoothly contoured flesh continued over his shoulders and onto his sleek, solid, slightly raised chest which was daintily adorned by a pair of tiny, pale man nipples. He pushed himself higher revealing a set of washboard abs. The slightly raised sections of the ribbed-for-his-pleasure set of abdominal muscles seemed to remain well defined and distinguished in their mostly flat, solid tone, no matter how he contorted his belly.
He slowly became aware of an uncomfortable pressure and wetness around his penis... With concerted effort he raised himself onto his knees, painfully extricating his trapped morning wood from the tight, uncomfortable confines of the craft pile. With his package finally free, he saw his crusty boxers draped obscenely over his engorged phallus, proclaiming without question his enormous endowment. The front of his boxers were soaking wet and sticky with fresh ejaculate. Looking down, he saw that he had been laying on something that was shaped uncannily like a girl, complete with lumps of mounded breasts and shapely baby bearing hips. It was constructed out of dense, blue, molded plastic panels that were joined together by an inner framework that allowed the panels to expand and contract to alter the device's physical dimensions as needed. His penis had been lodged suggestively between the two lower panels on the front.
"Maxwell Rudy Warner, what do you think you're doing?!" Max's mom screamed, appearing suddenly in the doorway.
"Mom?" He croaked in a deep, douchey voice. "...ahem...What? Ahem, AHEEM!.. Hey..." He continued trying to clear his throat with growing frustration, but his repeated attempts were making no difference. His voice had dropped to a permanent, deep rumble.
"What are you doing in my craft room Max? What are you even doing in the house!" She asked in alarm.
"Wuh? I fell asleep in my room...Ahem!" He replied, still shaking off the dullness from his languid, sleepy mind.
"There's no way." She said accusatorially. "You came in here on purpose. You know you're not allowed in the house. You know it!"
She seemed as though she were holding back tears, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You're ruining everything. You're not supposed to be here. You're... You're sweating all over my projects, Max. You know about my sensitivity to smells."
Max became aware that his Mom was not only starting to cry, but she was actually beginning to retch violently at his very presence.
"Oh, mom. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-" Max said turning toward his mother, revealing his soaked boxers and his apparently improvised semen receptacle.
"MAXWELL! You didn't. OH GOD.... My sewing form. You used... YOU USED my sewing form as a sex doll?! I can't believe this... " His mother screamed accusatorially, pausing for a moment to wretch and dry heave away from the doorway in reaction to the fowl odor her son had shamelessly deposited all over her personal space.
"What!? No! I wouldn't do that... AHEM... You know I'm.. AHUUM.. ahem... You know. AHEM... You. UGH. You know I'm ASEXUAL, Mom!"
"Oh, sure Max.. You're asexual alright." His mother began sarcastically, "You're a sexual deviant! I don't know what to do with you, Max. This libido of yours has gotten completely out of control, and I only see it getting worse! And don't think for one second that I don't know what goes on in your bedroom just because I can't go inside... Despite my years of effort, you're growing up to be a giant poon hound, just like your father!"
"I'm not a poon hound!" He replied, feeling offended by the barrage of unjustified accusations. "I don't know how I got in here and I musta had a wet dream, that's all."
"I don't want to discuss it Max. What's done is done. Just get out to your room now and never set foot in this house again."
Max angrily rose to his feet and navigated his way off the storage pile. Moving towards the door in a huff, he tripped over his giant manly feet he'd never used before and appeared to make an exaggerated, intentional, prat fall into one of his mothers shelves sending all of its contents crashing to the floor.
"I'm sorry, it was an accident!" Max declared pleadingly.
"TO YOUR ROOM MAXWELL! You're paying for everything you ruined today and on top of that, you're grounded for a month!" His mom screamed, hitting her limit
"Uh, where is my room?" Max asked uncomfortably, afraid the question would trigger his mother to explode, but not having any other option.
"You know. I actually wanted to believe that little prat fall of yours was a legitimate accident, but you really do just like to be a difficult little ass, don't you Max? Feigning innocence, stupidity, and clumsiness whenever it suits you, so long as you get your own way..." His mom said with disgust
"I really don't kn-"
"GARAGE" His mom yelled, cutting him off sharply.
Max eagerly brushed passed his Mom and left the room, clomping his giant feet down the hall where he was finally able to orient himself. The hallway looked absolutely normal, the entire house looked normal. He HAD been in his room after all... but it had changed. Somehow it had been redone into his mother's craft room and his room was, what? In the garage now?
He trudged through the laundry room and reached automatically for the handle to open the door to the garage but it wasn't there. There was only a key hole for a dead bolt. How was he supposed to get in?
Just then his mother came around the corner looking for cleaning supplies. When she saw her son standing there in her laundry room, she just about flipped her shit...
"This is not funny, Max. I'm really mad. I'M REALLY MAD. You just want to push me?... Well I'm happy to push right back."
She grabbed a rubber glove from a box under the washing basin and snapped it onto her right hand. She grabbed Max by the ear and dragged him to the front door.
"When I tell you to go to your room you do it buster. Playing dumb isn't going to work on me. I know better."
With that she opened the front door and pushed Max outside. Then she angrily typed a sequence of numbers into the electronic dead bolt lock, changing the code to keep max from getting back in. With that she slammed the door and latched it securely behind her, leaving Max standing on the stoop in the bitter morning cold crouching in embarrassment trying his best to cover the wet splotch on the front of his soiled boxers and to keep his giant dick from swaying obscenely.
Max turned awkwardly toward the front walkway and headed for the garage. His eyes darted around frantically trying to see if any of his neighbors were out on the street. Luckily he didn't see anyone, but he had to hurry if he didn't want to get spotted...
Just then a car rounded the corner and though his back was turned, he could hear a group of rambunctious teens shouting to him from the street.
"WOOOOO, Lookin' good, Canada!" "Nice underwear" "Forgot your keys?" "Flaunt your stuff, sexy"
Max's cheeks turned bright red while he pulled open the cover to the garage keypad and began typing in what he prayed was still the code to open the garage.
To his relief he heard the characteristic drone of the garage door opener and the door began to lift. He wasn't sure what to expect to find in the garage, for some reason he assumed there would be a perfect replica of his old room in there, but he recognized absolutely nothing he saw. It was clearly remodeled from a standard garage to be a comfortable living space, decorated completely for a cool, hip teen with little expense spared. There was a hockey themed pinball machine and a climbing wall leading to a loft, there was all manner of sports gear and a collection of bicycles for different terrains loaded on the ceiling and easily accessible. There were trophies and awards and ribbons displayed proudly on the wall for his accomplishments and pictures and news clipping recording his greatest moments. The loft stored unwieldy sports gear and pads along with a small tv and beanbag chair. In the corner on the main floor there was a small bathroom partition separated from the main room on only three and a half sides, there was no actual door for privacy but nothing could be seen from the road even if the garage was open, The most prominent display that COULD be seen from the street when the garage door was open was a giant Canadian flag mural that had been done in graffiti-style using spray paint.
"This isn't my room..." Max thought angrily, stepping into the strange environment. "Where's my stuff?! Where are my books and my bug collection. Where are my trading cards and my video games. My asexual pride flag... My clothes... My butterfly net?!"
His butterfly net was missing, it was his most cherished item from when his dad was around, he always kept it mounted proudly over his bed but now there was just some Lacrosse stick.
Max felt totally violated. This wasn't acceptable. He wasn't going to be kicked out of his house and relegated to the garage like some dumb animal. A prisoner in a gilded sports cage. He wanted his things back and he wanted answers!
"Nice BOOTAY, Warner" "Bubble butt on display" "Thanks for the SHOW." "You'll freeze your nuts of out here!"
Max snapped free from his train of thought at the sound of the second group of teens yelling at him from the street. He quickly ran over to the inner garage door and hit the button to close the entry port. While the door lowered he caught his reflection in the full body mirror next to the laundry room door. His body was even stranger than he had realized. He was very toned and tight muscularly, but his hands and feet were disproportionately large making him look like a thin, gangly teenager. His feet were easily size 14, maybe 15. They were massive and his hands were practically catcher's mitts on his comparatively underdeveloped frame. He obviously had a lot of growing to do. He looked like he was destined to be as big as his Dad, or was he already bigger than his Dad?...
"What's going on!" He screamed in frustration.
Deciding the first thing he had to do was find some clothes and take a shower, Max started looking through his storage shelves for something to wear. He couldn't find anything he would normally wear, it was all sports clothes and he didn't know how to combine or accessorize any of it. He grabbed a tank top for basic coverage and a hoodie for warmth. He didn't want to end up showing his shoulders but he figured he'd be fine in the hoodie the whole day... He couldn't find any long pants that weren't breakaway or meant for heavy winter sporting activities so he just went with a pair of basketball shorts. His body wasn't feeling the cold so much anyway...
When he came to the sock drawer he noticed a large zippered storage container. Thinking some of his missing possessions might be inside, he eagerly opened it and was shocked to find an enormous stash of condoms!
"Why should I have condoms? I don't need those. I'm a frickin' asexual and I'm aromantic..."
But there they were, and the sight of them was getting Max horny... In no time his crusty boxers were tenting out in front of him obscenely. Curious to see what had become of his dick, he pulled the waist band down freeing his giant uncut monster cock which flopped upwards comically, pointing skyward with resolution, clearly proud of itself and eager for action.
Max's eyes bugged out from actually seeing his colossal dick. It was so big and his balls were larger as well and the skin looked healthier and more even toned than ever... He touched the shaft experimentally and shuddered at the sensation, the skin was so smooth, so clean and elastic looking... He couldn't resist teasing himself more and more with his sausage fingers, eliciting an uncontrollable moan.
Experimentally Max opened one of the condoms and rolled it over his shaft, the tightness was driving him mad, the rubber was thin and tight, was it too tight? Did he need a bigger one? What was he even supposed to do with this thing?
He started stroking his large callused hand up and down the length of his shaft, he was enjoying it... he was really getting excited...
The condom left some sort of slick residue on his hand, and as he continued to massage his penis, he decided the condom was only getting in the way. He peeled it off gently and wile he held the thin rubber tube in his left hand, he began to stroke his bare, unprotected shaft again with the right, pulling his foreskin back and forth over his sensitive glans over and over. His penis started to eagerly drool a slick substance while Images of hung jock boys inundated his mind. He wanted to grind against them, he wanted to rub his slick sweaty body against their hairy torsos, he wanted to burry his face in their rank arm pits... He wanted to fuck them hard in the ASS!... Surrendering to the wild and uncontrollable thoughts, he unconsciously dropped the wasted condom into his bedside trash bin and almost forgot about it immediately, but then out of curiosity paused his masturbation episode and looked inside the trash bin to see what had been discarded before. To his horror, there were many spent condoms piled inside. Condoms, tissues, and emptied intimate lubricant bottles. His trash was a veritable archeological monument to years of teenage sexcapades.
"NO!" He shouted regaining a bit of control "I'm not a poon hound!... Certainly not a gay one... I mean... I'm not even a horn dog... I'm asexual... I've always BEEN asexual... Asexual AND Aromantic... This is crazy, this isn't me at all. I'm not GAY... what am I doing?!"
"FUCK" he exclaimed uncharacteristically throwing his deflating, oversized penis angrily against the side of his leg, causing it to make a slick slapping noise.
Max quickly got off the bed and gathered his clothes, shaking his head trying to free himself from the intrusive sexual thoughts. He went into the shower and tried to get ready for the day, doing his best to ignore the aching need to return to his self pleasure. Luckily for him his shower was incapable of heating up, it was only plumbed into the cold water line. Suddenly his mother's statements about putting forth her best efforts to curb Max's libido made some sense. She was clearly forcing him to take cold showers, but Max was grateful for the reprieve, the cold water had calmed his raging sex impulses down to a persistent but manageable sub-mania... for now...
Max was just pulling on the last of his clothes when he heard the school bus drive by.
"SHIT" he exclaimed, seemingly unaware of the uncharacteristic frequency of his cursing. "I can't find my stuff, where are my glasses? Where's my coat?"
He searched everywhere for his glasses but they were just missing. Eventually he realized he was being an idiot, he clearly didn't need them anymore, he could see just fine without them... But his coat was gone... Suddenly he remember the jacket he had borrowed, it must still be inside in the coat closet.. but there was no getting it now, his mom wouldn't let him set foot inside the house and she sure as hell wouldn't do him any favors this morning.
Resolving to get the jacket later, he opened the garage door and once it reached its zenith, he pushed the button again and ran as fast as he could towards the opening, taking a heroic leap over the sensor beam and landing triumphantly in the driveway as the door finished closing behind him. He started jogging his way to school trusting his oversized clown feet not to trip over one another as he went.
As he ran, he tried to focus on mentally sorting through the facts of his bizarre situation and trying to make sense of this brave new world he had awakened to...