After a quick nap, Chase wakes up horny. He dreamt of fucking Ty, and now plans to do just that.
Looking to the floor he sees the bowl of boy exactly where he left it.
Ty seems to have reformed somewhat. Still pale, still a puddle of slop, but with slightly more defined features.
Without much thought Chase robotically cums into the mush, eliciting more gurgles and sloshing which spill a bit of the ruined Ty-mixture into the rug. Chase cleans it as best he can, then showers. He leaves to eat and returns to find the bowl a little more full— a little more pale and cum like, but still trying to reform a face.
Morbid curiosity overtakes Chase. He’s not even very horny, but he wonders how much of his cum Ty can handle. It’s like a challenge. Ty trying his damndest to reform, at least a mouth and eyes, and Chase trying to overcome him, with his own cum.
So he does it again, jacking off not so much out of pleasure than as an experiment. Ty’s gurgling is getting thicker and wetter, his coughing splutters splashing more droplets of liquid that are easy to wipe up.
Chase looks at his watch. He has time to run to the store for some snacks. Maybe visit a friend or go on a quick skating outing. He pushes the bowl under his bed for safe keeping and heads out.
Three hours pass as Ty struggles to even open his eyes. He feels water logged, soggy and soft and limp. He calls out only to hear an unintelligible, garbled gargling sound.
His hearing is even distorted, as if he’s holding his head underwater. He *thinks* he hears the door open, and footsteps near, but mostly it’s the feeling of vibration, until his entire body is violently jolted.
Chase slides the bowl from under his bed and whips his dick out. Ty’s eyes look to be screwed shut, and his mouth nothing but a squiggly little crease that warbles as the mass of boy-cum attempts to speak. The entire facade is interrupted by ropes of cum before disappearing entirely.