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After that night with Zayne (my old school buddy), I slept for a few hours. Then after I woke, I felt stiff as a board, in my back, calves, and ass. It felt like I’d run a marathon, just like when I first hit it off with Jess.

I lay on my bed naked and pondering thoughts for ages. What’s wrong with my cock, why am I cumming so frequently? I even started to jack off before heading to Zayne’s place, it did no good. It started to bug me.

Afterwards, once it became an issue, I visited my doctor, who was LBGT friendly. Through my doctor, I would soon find out what the headache pills were. I had been mistakenly using them for around a year. They were some sort of black-market concoction of paracetamol, estrogen, and spironolactone. What I thought they were for, and what they were, were two different things. Luckily, I only had a few pills left from the last time I visited the chemist.

I thought they were for severe headaches or migraines, I had no idea, they were changing my genetics.

”What in the hell is wrong with me?” was the first question I asked her.

“What’s made me so weak, once a cock is dangled in front of me?” I was at a breakpoint.

“Also, what’s making me orgasm so frequently?” I was unraveling.

“Why do I let myself get into situations where I’m owned by strange men?” I was losing my composure.

She listened patiently and understood or sympathized with my predicament and passed me a glass of water and a pill. I thought to myself, now she was feeding me pills.

After a few minutes, I seemed to calm myself down.

“Like, before I met Tiffany, and participated in her bedroom games, I would never have got myself into this hole,” she sat there with her legs crossed writing things down into her clipboard.

“Back then I was fully heterosexual, and never dreamed I would turn into a fag or enjoy fag activities,” I continued.



“Well, here I am, I can’t say I’m heterosexual, I can’t say I’m bisexual. Where am I?” I finished.

My doctor took some blood samples, and after a week I will find out, what I had in my system.

Then three days pass:

I visited Zayne, a few days later, and when I left I did so with his cum inside me. A part of me, wanted a life with a Zayne or a Jessa, feeding me their cocks, then a part of me wanted to be normal again. The lure of cock was like a worm to a fish, too much.



A week later:

Then after a week, I saw my doctor. Through her, I found out that the headache pills I had been mistakenly using for a year were some sort of black-market concoction of paracetamol, estrogen, and spironolactone. I had no idea, that it was changing me. What I thought they were for, were for severe headaches or migraines. They were changing my chromosomes and making me more compliant.

I left her office traumatized and shaken up.



*

Tiffany had made me curious, and then at that party, my curiosity became reality. Then on my bus trip, I was hunted and caught by Jessa, and now it seems I have a weakness or unfulfilled desire. She didn’t force those pills on me, I willingly took them. I did this to me.

Once I returned home, I lay on my bed at home pondering dark thoughts. I lay naked, looking at my limp cock. when I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, a voice invaded my thoughts, I kept whispering “faggot”, “faggot.”

Annoyed I jumped up and punched the mattress of my bed. I spent the evening fighting my inner thoughts, and each time I poured myself a glass of straight bourbon.

Is this why I can’t fully grow a boner anymore, five inches if I am lucky, or why I cum with a flaccid cock, what a pathetic excuse! I spent that night restless, naked, and thinking bad thoughts.

*

The next morning, there was a half-drunk bottle of bourbon sitting on my kitchen cabinet. I must have been stressing out a bit.

I took a walk to ward off my frustrations, and the minor stiffness in my muscles.

When I reached the park I stretched my calves against a fence, before continuing to walk through the park. It was mid-morning and I saw none of the troublemakers were hanging out there.

By the time I was on my return trip, I was almost jogging, as my muscles were only mildly hindering me.

I then had lunch with my mother and spent the day watching TV.

The following day, I went for another walk and jog, before having lunch with my mother. Then after lunch, I decided to walk to Zayne’s place.

I must admit I was wearing questionable clothes once again. My brain wasn’t thinking wisely. It had been 3-4 days since I last saw Zayne.

So, I cut through the park wearing tattered denim cut-off shorts, no boxers, a baggy peach T-shirt (tied in a knot to one side), a denim vest (with heavy metal patches), sunglasses, and running shoes. My hair was untied and loose under my beanie.

There I was wandering through the park and past where all the thugs hang out, near the picnic bench and restrooms. It was 2:30 PM. Oh my god, I almost shit myself. There were about ten thugs there, just hanging out. In panic, my heart raced, as I made my way by them.

I walked a little bit like a girl like I had been for a while now, but much more exaggerated with my sudden anxiety.