The alarm clock buzzed beside Lars in his bedroom. He groaned and turned the thing off. Time for another day of people wanting him to do things for them. But first, another morning of examining himself nude in the bathroom mirror, making sure he looked perfect for his many admirers as always. The first thing he did as he slipped out from between the sheets was to grab the expensive collar that Clarissa had given him a week earlier. He was going to wear it again today, just as he had yesterday and the day before that. Even Lars himself was surprised that he was still wearing it. It certainly didn't fit his usual style or Clarissa's, and Lars almost never kept gifts for longer than a single blowjob anyway. Somehow, though, he felt attached to this particular gift and wanted to keep wearing it. Maybe he would even start sleeping in it.
For some reason, though, Clarissa hadn't spent much time with him since she gave it to him. Neither had Ethan. Sure, they'd spoken occasionally, but something always seemed to come up when they were about to have sex. If Clarissa hadn't given him such a costly and strangely appealing gift so recently, he would think she was avoiding him. He'd had maybe two more blowjobs from Clarissa and a hand job from Ethan. What could they possible have to do that was so much more important than taking pleasure in Lars's magnificent body?
"If I didn't know better, I'd think they finally found out about each other and are pissed. I can't see either of them lasting this long without telling me off, though," thought Lars. He actually kind of liked it when his partners found out he was cheating on them. There was something hilarious about the thought that the idea that anyone might think they "owned" him. How could any one person have exclusive access to such a perfect symbol of attractive masculinity as Lars Olsen? Besides, there was also something sexy about watching some of his more submissive lovers get angry for once--and if he managed to calm them down, the sex afterwards would be excellent.
Fortunately, Lars had already found an additional outlet for his sexual frustrations: Isabela Martinez, the exchange student from Panama. She believed his sad story about how no one in America truly understood him and her foreign mannerisms were romantic to him in a way that had stolen his heart. He had to admit she had a sexy body. She had some trouble understanding his English, but ever since he'd taught her what "anal" meant, the remaining communication barriers had been no real inconvenience to Lars. He could be patient while Ethan and Clarissa were getting their busy lives under control and Rudy was working up the nerve to ask him out; there was always someone ready to give Lars what he needed on his timing, and these days that person was Isabela. He thought about her as he flexed his muscles in the mirror, before and after washing his face in the most seductive way possible.
Lars still hadn't noticed anything different about his body, outwardly at least. Neither had Ethan and Clarissa, not that Lars knew they expected him to transform. What he had noticed was it had been a strange week in other ways. For one thing, he really liked the smell of his own piss lately. He didn't know why, but there was something satisfying and even self-flattering about it. It had felt increasingly disappointing to flush it down the toilet. Lars had even pissed in his gym locker one day to see if the smell would finally cause to stop rummaging through it, and it had!
"Maybe I'll refresh the aroma today while no one is looking," he thought with a clever smirk.
Secondly, Lars had experienced some unsettling vision changes. It started the day after Clarissa had given him the collar, when his vision became a bit foggy. He'd noticed it was harder to see the coach's diagrams on the chalkboard from the same distances as before. Since then, it had become more difficult for Lars to tell certain colors apart from each other unless he was paying very closed attention. He'd first noticed that when he was driving back from a college admission office the previous day: all three traffic lights looked basically the same now, except that he already knew which one was on top (red), which one was in the middle (yellow), and which one was on the bottom (green).
"I haven't had my eyes checked in years. I guess it's finally catching up with me," he thought. He hoped he just needed glasses or something and didn't have anything like brain damage from a football injury. Concussions were not exactly uncommon for him out on the field. He had actually been to the emergency room on his third day of wearing the collar, but surprisingly it wasn't for that. Of all things, it was the cake and ice cream he'd been eating at the team's victory celebration that had left him violently ill and minimally conscious. Apparently he had developed a severe dietary intolerance to chocolate. The doctors said it was probably genetic, but it had never caused him any problems before!
"None of my usual chocolate protein bars this morning," he thought, planning his breakfast. Maybe some sort of bacon smoothie would be better. Can you make bacon into a smoothie? Lars hoped he could make bacon into a smoothie.