John stared at the mess he'd made. There was gooey white stuff clinging and dripping to the mirror over the sink, the sink, the counter, the floor, and himself. He stared at the expanding puddle on the floor as the liquid dripped from the counter and down the sides of his torso and legs. He looked at goo coated fingers. He'd never produced that much cum before, even in his dreams. It had to be at least a half gallon of the gunk. Absently, John licked his fingers. Soon he was sucking each one clean. His stomach rumbled. He began scraping the cum off his chest and lapping it up. Within a minute, he'd eagerly consumed most of the cum off his body.
John stared at the puddle on the floor. He and Brian had been meaning to get around to cleaning the bathroom, but it hadn't been cleaned since the first moved in two years ago. John licked his lips, and then dropped to all fours. He lapped the floor clean, old dried up urine, dust, cum and all. He caught the drippings from the countertop on his tongue like snowflakes as he knelt to stop the flow from the countertop. Soon the counter and sink gleamed, and mirror was rather badly streaked.
"Hey, John, want some breakfast?" Brian shouted from the kitchen.
The smell of eggs and meat cooking made John's mouth drool, and his stomach rumble. He was famished. He assumed transformations take a lot out of a guy. John bolted naked from the bathroom, then he reached back in and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.