I kinda hoped the underwear might help my situation, but no. “Jen, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything. I said you could stay here until we figure out what to do. If you’re angling for a handjob, you need to think again.”
“I’m not! I wasn’t—I mean I wouldn’t turn one down—”
“Goodnight, Adam.” She shoves me out the door and closes it in my face.
I let my forehead thunk against the wood. “Come on, Jen, Don’t go to bed. I haven’t seen anyone all day.”
“God, you’re a pain in the ass!” she shouts through the door.
Then there’s silence.
With a sigh, I take myself back to the sofa and browse porn for another fruitless ten minutes. When I hear soft snores through the bedroom door I get up and softly push it ajar.
Jen is stretched out on her back with her arms spread out wide across the mattress and her lips slightly parted. She looks soft and sweet like that. Less angry.
She still has her shoes on.
Creeping to the side of the bed, I gently remove the sneakers and tuck them into the closet. I didn’t mean to be a pain in her ass. I just didn’t know who else to call. Turns out my friends are all good for a good time, but when I actually need them they all disappear faster than a street racer catching a glimpse of flashing blue lights.
Not that I’d trust any of them with the truth about what happened to me. Jen though? Jen’s trustworthy. Reliable. When she makes a promise, she keeps it. I know she won’t let me down. And even though she might be mad now, she'll forgive me. She’s got a soft heart under all the bitching.
Her underwear is still in a pile on the floor. Stooping, I pick them up and shove them back in the drawer where I found them. I’m keeping the pair I have on, though; they feel amazing.
I turn just as she rolls to her side, bringing her knees up to her chest. She looks almost vulnerable like that. I sneak to the bedside and pull the blanket over her then creep out of the room again. I wish I could just curl up behind her and hold her. It was nice having someone to come home to when we used to live together.
Sometimes when I’m feeling particularly down, I kinda wish I hadn’t broken up with her at all. Things never work out for me the way I hope they will. The breakup definitely hasn’t.
No point going back to the sofa bed. I’ve tried so many times since the accident, but sleep won’t come. I’ve given up.
Instead I go to the bathroom and stand under the shower with my forehead pressed against the tiles until the hot water runs out. It’s nice to feel warm again. I’m starting to forget how it feels to feel normal. I hate that.
I wipe a hand across the mirror with a squeak and stare at my reflection. My tan is gone, replaced by a sickly gray color and dark circles beneath my eyes. I look like I’ve been on a three-week bender. I lift my arm and squeeze the muscles, trying to tell if I’ve lost definition too. I mean, of course I have. I haven’t been to the gym in over a week.
Fuck. I can’t even eat. How am I supposed to keep my protein up?
Pretty soon I’ll just be some dumb, ugly, college drop-out nobody. At least when I was hot, people wanted me.
I mean I know my personality doesn’t have much going for it, but I’ve always made up for that by having a big dick. Now even that doesn’t even work anymore.
I turn away from the mirror and flop onto the sofa with Jen’s laptop. I get a little lost down a rabbit hole of beauty products promising to restore my skin tone. Apparently now that I’m dead I need to be moisturizing with collagen or some shit. I wonder ifJen has some of this magical moisturizer. Her skin always looks so good. So perfectly smooth.
I raid the bathroom again wondering if I missed something earlier, but all I can find is a moisturizing mask and a tub of heel balm for dry heels. I put the mask on my face and return to the laptop. I’m about to order a jar of this expensive moisturizer when I notice the items in Jen’s cart at the side of the screen and have to do a double take. The hugest, pinkest, most terrifying dildo I’ve ever seen looks back at me unfazed, and my mouth waters.
It’s got sort of spines in the shape of water drops gracefully dripping down from the tip and a wicked curve. At the base it widens into a knot the size of my fist before flaring to a suction cup.
Fuck. That’s hot. An image of Jen bouncing on that dildo and riding it to an earth-shattering orgasm pops into my mind, and suddenly there’s a very large bulge in the leopard print underwear.
Oh shit. I’m back!
I grab myself and start stroking before I lose the erection again. Then I quickly type into the search bar. A moment later a video of a petite blonde woman taking it from behind starts, and she’s moaning and the guy is pounding into her. I’m frantically stroking my dick, but it’s no good. I’m soft again in less than a minute, and I let out a groan of frustration.
I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t wank.
I may as well be…I fuckingamdead.
Not for the first time I curse the witch who did this to me. Despondently, I open up a new search and type in ‘how to cure a curse from a witch’ and then when that doesn’t work ‘help, I’m a zombie’. It takes me ages, but I finally stumble across a website that looks like the person who wrote it might actually know what they’re talking about.
