Jake opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the headache-inducing light coming through Katie's thin curtains. Wow, I drank way too much last night, he thought. A quick assessment of his immediate surroundings revealed the sheets were once again empty besides himself. The urgent throb of morning wood intruded on his consciousness and he reached down, his hand for some reason almost missing his fun-size weiner completely, as though he expected it to reach much further from his body. But here it was, Old Faithful, all seven - uh - centimetres present and correct (why had he thought 'inches'?), twitching enthusiastically.
Last night had been pretty wild, and it must've impacted his subconscious because his dreams had been equally crazy - and to be honest, between that and the alcohol he was having trouble remembering exactly what had been dream and what had been reality. Had Liz really given him a blowjob? The maybe-real maybe-fantasy memory of the brunette inhaling his 'entire' cock with her full, plump lips quickly brought his hair-trigger chapstick prick to boiling point. He reached out onto the bedside table - no tissues again. Come on, lil' Jakie, cool off. But lil' Jakie was past the point of no return. He eyed the door to the en-suite bathroom but there was no time - he could only bunch up the duvet around his crotch and hump pathetically as his two point seven five inches quaked and quivered. The moment passed, he cautiously lifted the sheets to inspect the damage. Bone dry. Maybe the slightest suggestion of moisture near the tip. Must've been a good night. Normally there would be at least a couple of small drops (a vague fantasy about positively plastering these very sheets floated through his mind; had that been a dream, or a daydream, he'd had before?).
Jake got up and, locating his Y-fronts, wandered through into the living room. No-one had cleaned up from the night before and several empty bottles of cheap pinot noir lay around the floor together with Bombay mix and popcorn that had once been in snack bowls.
A gentle snoring from the sofa alerted Jake that Josh was still sleeping it off. The big man was nude other than a bandana made from what looked suspiciously like Jake's tie, broad shoulders and big pecs dappled in sweat. His baby acorn of a dicklet looked comically tiny on his large, well-developed body and Jake suppressed a quiet chuckle. There couldn't be too many men Jake could reliably beat in a penis-measuring contest, but Josh was one of them (2-0 so far!). And it wasn't even close; Old Faithful might not be big - or average, or even close to average... - but it was more than three times as long as Josh's bona fida genuine micropenis. And when you factored in girth that meant he was something like six times as much man as the bodybuilder. It felt excessive. It was almost cruel. Hey, hadn't they agreed whoever won the second round (the details of the first were somewhat hazy in his mind) would get a chance with the other guy's girl? He was pretty sure that had been the deal. Maybe the blowjob from Liz hadn't been a dream after all, though he seemed to remember she'd ended the night licking and grinding on Josh's inch-long nubbin anyway.
In any case, Jake thought, it seemed like the girls had already left for work, which means he was probably well on his way to being late again. He cast around for his trousers and shirt. Socks, socks ... he pulled on the first two he found then realized they were mismatched colours. One of them must be Josh's. Although... they both fit pretty well. Were they both his socks? He found another sock near the coffee table that matched the left one, and suddenly passed, looking down at the underfilled front of his unzipped work trousers. He stuffed, right? It was an odd thing to have to confirm to yourself, but the vivid dreams last night had clearly done a number on him. He must stuff. He had a distinct memory of filling out his trousers to almost painful tightness up front. He rolled the sock into a cylinder with a strange lack of familiarity and slid it into his tighty whiteys, easing it over Old Faithful. He turned slightly, looking at his nicely full crotch in the living room mirror. Yeah, that looked pretty... OK? It felt normal.
Wallet, phone and jacket proved easy enough to locate - the only thing he was missing was the watch. For some reason this gave him a deep sense of unease - even though it was only a cheap digital watch with a Velcro strap. It was ... powerful, right? It could do ... things. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, and it was getting all twisted up with last night's dreams. Anyway, it couldn't have left the apartment, so he could just swing by later after work.