On Sunday morning, John's heart was pounding when he woke up, drenched in sweat and fully aroused, from dreams of orcs and satyrs and sex. He threw off the covers and searched himself frantically for any hint of green skin or fur, afraid that it was happening again... but he found nothing. He was still perfectly human. He waited anxiously for a few more minutes in case it started, then began to calm down. As his heartbeat slowed, his erection softened too. He was still more than a little horny from the dreams, but after what had happened in the bathroom he couldn't bear the thought of jerking off. He took a lukewarm shower and dressed, but didn't leave the house all day, wanting to be able to bolt to his room in case it started again.
On Sunday night he had the dreams again, and woke up even more aroused on Monday -- but also very late for work. He grabbed his clothes, tugging them on as he dashed down the stairs, out of the door, and over to his car. He was distracted and horny all day, unable to focus on his job, and caught himself staring at other guys in the office several times. It was a relief to get home that evening. He barely grunted a greeting at Brian before running to his room, stripping, grabbing a towel, and locking himself in the bathroom. He shivered. His erection was straining, leaking, and his mouth was dry. Lube, he thought, casting around. Lube, lube, lube... He grabbed something squirty off the countertop, started to pump it into his palm--
--and then froze at a memory. He'd ejaculated over that bottle -- along with about half of the sink -- when he was an orc. That had happened, hadn't it? It was impossible, but he remembered it. He ran a finger under the bottle but found no trace. He must have done a thorough cleaning job after all. His legs were shaking. What was he doing -- was he trying to recreate that orgasm? If it was real, was that a good idea -- might he change back? He sat down on the edge of the bath and shook his head, the edge of his arousal gone. This was messed up. It felt all wrong. He wasn't gay; why had he been fixated on men all day? He remembered waking up sweating. Maybe he was coming down with a fever and wasn't thinking straight? Reluctantly, John put back the bottle and took another lukewarm shower.