Luke carefully removed the condom from his softening penis, wrapped it in a tissue, and leaned over to carefully place it in the trash can next to his desk.
When he sat back up, the image on his computer monitor had gotten brighter, and little sparks were shooting across the surface of the screen. He didn't mess around -- he ducked under his desk and went straight for the power cord.
He didn't make it. With an audible "FOOM," the monitor discharged what looked like a giant bolt of lightning into Luke's bedroom. Sparkles began to fly around, and in their wake, the room itself began to transform.
Crouched under the desk, Luke watched as his walls moved further away to make room for more furniture. His bed expanded, going from a full size to a king size, the sheets changing from their usual light blue cotton to what looked like black satin. His existing nightstand became a contemporary-looking black-and-silver model, and a twin appeared on the other side of the bed. His dresser and bookshelves went through a similar style transformation, and then in a newly created space, a black leather couch and recliner appeared, facing a brand-new plasma TV that appeared on the wall.
The sparkles dissipated except for what looked like a swirling tornado in the middle of the room. As its speed began to slow and those sparkles began to disappear, a figure emerged. It was the woman from the video, wearing the same red satin-and-lace bra and matching panties, plus a pair of red stiletto heels. Those heels padded across the plush carpet until she knelt down in front of Luke. Her melon-sized breasts were directly in his face.
"Luke, honey, what are you doing under there?" she asked, in a voice that dripped sex.
Luke managed to tear his eyes away from her cleavage and move his gaze upward to her face. He managed to stutter out, "H-how do you know my name?"
She looked concerned, or at least as concerned as she could get beneath her heavy coat of makeup. "Did you hit your head when you went under there?" She grabbed Luke's left hand, holding it and stroking it with one of her hands and its long, manicured fingernails. "It's me, Christmas Cantaloupes -- your girlfriend."
"My girlfriend?" Luke repeated. "But you were in the video on the computer, and now you're here, and then the room changed --"
"Well, of course I was in the video on the computer --" Christmas began, and then stopped. "Ohh, I get it! We've got to work on your role-playing." She tugged at his arm, and Luke reluctantly crawled out from under the desk, which he finally noticed had also changed to silver and black, to match the rest of the contemporary furniture that now populated his overly large bedroom.
"Now, you just need to lie down," said Christmas, leading him to the bed. "I know, it's horrible to have amnesia." Luke managed to climb onto the unfamiliar bed and wriggle down into the unfamiliar sheets, but Christmas ripped them off of him.
"Oh, no," she said, getting onto the bed and kneeling near Luke's midsection. "Sleep doesn't cure amnesia. What cures amnesia is me fucking you until you remember me."
"Wait, wha --" Luke's feeble protest was cut short by the sudden sensation of Christmas's glossy red lips wrapped around his cock, its sensitive head being teased by the metal stud in her tongue....
Luke woke up, sunlight in his face but eyes still closed, the echoes of a dream remaining in his brain, a dream that involved countless orgasms.