Rodger woke up feeling like he had a terrible hangover. He was glad it was a Saturday, or at least he hoped he was, and not about to a receive a “where the hell are you?” message from work. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes, shivering at the winter chill in the air. Damn it, he thought, Andrew forgot to turn on the heater again. He pulled the covers up over his naked body. The man was barely a hundred and thirty pounds wet, and yet somehow his boyfriend, Andrew, was never cold. Rodger on the other hand hated the chill of the winter, even here in California, despite his “pleasantly plump” frame as Andrew called it. He reached down to his legs to scratch an itch, expecting his hand to graze his usual morning wood, but felt nothing. He rubbed himself between the legs, finding his penis small and pulled up into his body. Rodger shrugged inside his mind and reached around the covers for the blank space in the bed, wondering where his boyfriend was. He hoped Andrew was making coffee, before this groggy headache of his turned into a full-blown migraine.
Rodger sat up and swung his legs over the bed, taking a moment to yawn and stretch his big arms over his head. He stood up from the bed and went to his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to dress. He grabbed a hoodie on his way out of the bedroom, shivering again at the nip in the air. In the kitchen he found a full coffee pot, thank god, but no boyfriend. Rodger frowned and crossed over to the cabinets to grab a mug. He poured himself a cup and was about to text Andrew as to his whereabouts when he heard the front door unlock. A moment later, his partner Andrew walked into the kitchen carrying a bag sundries.
“Oh, hey, babe! You’re up!” he chimed, walking over to give Rodger a kiss. Whereas Rodger was tall, broad, and bearded, Andrew was a shorter and lither man. He had short black hair and his face was clean shaven. He was dressed in a wool sweater and a windbreaker, as well as a pair of jeans that nicely accentuated the young man’s round ass that Rodger knew and loved. His hand took a possessive hold of Andrew’s rear as the man leaned in to kiss him.
“Where were you, baby? It’s cold in there without you.” Rodger protested, sipping his coffee.
“I wanted French toast! But we were out of bread, and like, everything else you need for French toast.” He laughed. “You want some?” he offered, pulling a loaf of sour dough out of the bag.
Rodger grinned, “That sounds great, babe,” he gestured for Andrew to come closer. The young man obliged and came forward to climb into his lap. “But I was hoping we could warm up the house a little bit, before breakfast,” he teased, his hand gripping his rear again.
Andrew snorted. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice?” he said wistfully.
Rodger’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he pressed on. “Yeah, it would.” He leaned forward to kiss Andrew on the neck. But instead of the boy melting against him like he usually did, he only squirmed in apparent discomfort. It confused him such that he didn’t notice that he wasn’t growing hard for his boyfriend like he usually did.
“Babe, it’s like, December. Why are you so horny all of the sudden?” Andrew asked.
Rodger was starting to feel annoyed, and a little hurt. “What are you talking about? I’m always horny in the morning, baby,” he said, trying again to woo Andrew in with his swagger.
“Yeah, when we’re in season. But it’s winter, babe. You know it can’t happen.” Andrew gave him a sympathetic look.
Rodger didn’t understand. Most mornings he woke up to the boy practically on top of him; they’d recently moved in together and since then their sexual appetite had been insatiable. Why the sudden change now? The weight of his boyfriend on his crotch brought his attention to the pressure on his dick. He realized he couldn’t feel the awkward stuffing sensation of his hardening dick wedged between his thigh and his boyfriend’s ass. He didn’t feel hard at all, or even really that horny.
“Babe, get up for a moment.” Rodger said.
“Alright, I’m starting breakfast. Wake me up in spring, babe,” Andrew gave his boyfriend another kiss and stood up, but Rodger was already fumbling with the drawstring of his pants. He lifted up the waist band to examine himself. He had to stifle a gasp; his cock was shrunken and pulled up tight against his body, such that his bulbous pink head was all that was visible on the surface. His balls were in a similar state, pulled up inside of his pelvis such that there was only a patch of dark, wrinkled skin where normally hung a heft and low-hanging pair of man’s testicles. Overall it looked like Rodger had just taken a long soak in forty degree (f) bathwater. It was almost lost in the bushy tangle of his public hair.
“Babe,” Rodger began, his voice unsteady, “What the hell is wrong with my dick?”
“Rodger, honey, its okay. You know sex is basically impossible during the off-season.”
“No, I…What are you talking about?” Roger let go of his waist band and stood up. “Why does my dick look like a clit? Where are my balls?” he asked, trying not to yell.
Andrew looked alarmed. “Rodger, calm down! Its all there! Just, you know, during the off-season, it all goes…back inside. That’s just how it works.”
“That’s not how it worked yesterday!” Rodger said. “Yesterday, you jumped me when I came home for my lunch break! Now you’re telling me we can’t have sex because it’s winter?”
“Well, yeah?” Andrew turned off the stove. “Its just…how humans work. Like deer, or bears. We’re sexually active and fertile during the spring and summer, when its warm and food and money are abundant. But then during the winter, our reproductive systems go to a suspended state. Women don’t menstruate, and for men, our penises and balls withdraw inside our bodies to protect themselves from the cold.”
“What the hell?” said Rodger, after processing this for a moment.
Andrew rolled his eyes. “I know. Scientists say its a relic of our evolutionary history. But, it’s like, Hello! We’re gay men! We’re not breeding and, yeah babe, I would love to get fucked by you by the fireside on a cold December night. But, such is life.”
Rodger sat back down. “How the hell did this happen?” he wondered aloud.
“I told you, evolution. Though I read an article the other day about these men and women who apparently are still fertile and sexually active year around.” Andrew said as he began breaking eggs into a bowl.
Rodger’s ears perked up. “Wait, what?”
“Yeah, one of the people, a woman, she got pregnant with her first child…in January! Have you ever met anyone with a birthday in January?” Andrew turned to give Rodger an incredulous look.
Yes, Rodger thought. “No,” he said, his mind elsewhere. He stood up from his chair and quickly made his way back to their bedroom to grab his phone. He opened his photo app and found his trusty stash of dick pics and male nudes that he relied upon when his boyfriend was working long nights. His eyes roved over the images of graphic male-on-male sex and nudity, feling the familiar rush of heat and hunger within his chest, but not his loins. It felt muted too, duller, like when you’ve smoked cigarettes for so long that you barely even feel the rush. His cock didn’t stir or grow or anything in response. He reached a hand down his pants and traced his finger around the head, tickling the sensitive bit of flesh underneath. It felt pleasant, but not arousing. He rubbed the patch of hairy skin where his balls would normally be, experiencing a bit of relief when he found that he could indeed feel them, two soft lumps nestled in the warmth and safety of his inner pelvis. He swiped through his pictures a bit more until he found one of his own dick pics, showing his usual, heft, seven-and-a-half erection and low-hanging, lime-sized balls. Am I really not going to see my dick like this again until spring? he wondered to himself. Rodger wasn’t sure if that meant the first day of spring in March, or if there was some other weird shit going on with the change in light and his “biological clock”. He was more concerned about how he’d even woken up in a world like this in the first place. Rodger wanted to get to the bottom of this, but for now he’d have to play cool for Andrew’s benefit. He figured he’d take a shower and put on some real clothes, maybe investigate that story Andrew had told him about.
“Babe,” Andrew called from the kitchen, “Breakfast!”
Rodger’s heart leapt; he loved his boyfriend’s French toast. At least somethings haven’t changed, Rodger thought, grinning to himself before following the aroma of nutmeg and maple syrup to the kitchen.