Chapter 3

Lucas fell asleep pretty quickly, like really quickly, but I couldn’t. Every time I thought about the fact that I had woken up with a cock, my heart would race and I felt light-headed. I’m not sure how to explain it really. I mean, I woke up in the middle of the night and there was a cock between my legs. Then I woke Lucas up and we both just kind of stared at it for a minute, then we panicked. After that, we put on clothes to go to the hospital, because I couldn’t figure out what else to do, and it disappeared. Simple as that. One minute I had a cock, the next minute I didn’t. Terrifying.

The next morning, both Lucas and I woke up in a fog. It felt like we had been in a car accident the day before; we were groggy and stiff and exhausted. We didn’t talk much at first. I don’t think the shock had worn off yet. We had coffee and toast in almost perfect silence, but I think we were both thinking the same thing - what the fuck happened last night? After breakfast and before my first class, both of us took a spot on the couch and started to search through everything we could find.

Naturally, this led to a bunch of interesting web results. We found everything from transgender to futanari, to stories about demons. Searching the internet was like reaching into a magician’s hat, only there was no rabbit. There were mythical creatures like the succubus, the incubus, and strange gods and goddesses from around the world. But what we couldn’t find, no matter how many different terms we plugged in, was any real, medical or scientific information on what had happened to me.

I abandoned the search at around 9:30. I had a class at 10:15. “Alright, I have to get going.” I closed my laptop and stood up.

“I’m going to keep looking,” Lucas stood up and wrapped his arms around me. “I’ll let you know if I find anything, but don’t worry, there has to be an explanation.”

“Thanks, baby.” I squeezed him. It felt so good to be in his arms.

Lucas and I had been together since my last year in college. I was working at the university as a teacher’s aide and he was starting his own company. We met at a coffee shop, overtop of laptop screens at tables that faced each other.

And, as they say, the rest is history. We just clicked. I mean, it was obvious to us and everyone else that we were right for each other, that we were going to last.

I knew it in the first week. It was perfect. We had the same views on the important things, religion, politics, and the like. But we also had similar tastes in music, food, and art. And let’s not forget that every time we got together sparks flew. I mean, you have no idea. At one point during the first month we lived together, Lucas complained about chafing. I couldn’t get enough of that boy.

I hugged him again and did my best not to cry. I was so tired and the night before was still like this hazy, terrifying dream that I knew had been real. And all I could think about was: What if it comes back? “Thanks,” I tried to smile.

“Hey, hey, we’re going to figure this out,” he held my chin up and wiped a tear away. “It’s going to be okay.”

During my first class a curly-haired girl tried to slip into my class, something that never happens. It was weird, but I didn’t pay too much attention. I was tired and too frustrated to really care what the kids were doing. I played a movie in all of my morning classes. And while I played the movie, I did more research. I scoured the internet. I looked at everything I could find where a woman had a dick, every website, every forum post, I even read comment threads on porn clips and movies. I was desperate to figure out what had happened. It was so far outside of the norm.

At lunch, I sat next to Robert, one of the calculus teachers. He was an older teacher with two or three degrees and a curmudgeonly attitude. “What’s the story?” He took a big bite out an apple and smiled.

“Beautiful day,” I sat down and opened my lunch container.

“That little tramp in my class is going to be death of three or four boys in my class.” Robert took a sip of his coffee. “That girl is out of control. Those guys don’t stand a chance against her. They can’t think straight when she’s around.”

“Which one? What did you say her name was, Mika?”

Robert had two freshman girls in his class that could only be described as sluts. You know the type. Probably raised in conservative backgrounds, they finally get their first real shot at freedom, and all they want to do is drink, smoke weed, and have sex. Glorious youth.

“Yeah, Mika.” He rolled his eyes and his gray, bushy eyebrows went up and down like fans doing the wave at a sportsball game. “She’s the worst. You know what she was wearing today?”

I gave him a blank look, I couldn’t begin to guess.

“Ripped up, super short, jeans shorts. You know, the kind where the pockets are hanging below where they cut them off. The bottom of her ass-cheeks was hanging out. Then she had a little tank top knotted above her belly button piercing.”

“Shoes?” It seemed like the only thing to ask. There were a hundred girls on campus in that outfit. I could have counted twenty on my way to the food court, but the girl who had tried to slip into my class had been wearing jean shorts.

“What?” Robert took another bite of his apple.

“What kind of shoes was she wearing?” I looked over and found his face stoic, like he couldn’t believe I was asking about shoes.

“I don’t remember. Fuck me, shoes?”

We both laughed and I wondered if Mika was the girl that had tried to slip into my class that morning. She had on short, jean shorts and tank top with a long silver necklace that disappeared into her cleavage, and little, red flats. Why did I remember that?

For the next twenty minutes, Robert blathered on about students, the weather, and the coming weekend, but I could barely pay attention. All I could think about was the night before.

It was strange too, the memory had been fading all morning. The more I thought about it, the further it seemed to get. By the end of lunch, I could barely remember the size and shape of it.

When I got home that night, Lucas was waiting in the kitchen. He had made dinner, homemade lasagna, his family’s recipe. We kissed and then he poured me a glass of wine. “How was the day?” He asked.

“Good,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. Nothing terrible had happened. I was exhausted but that was about it. “Did you find anything online?”

Lucas took a sip of his wine. “No,” he said softly. “The internet is full of chicks with dicks though.” He chuckled and I managed a weak smile. I had run into the same thing. There were plenty of cases that sounded like mine

“Maybe it was a fluke.” Lucas stuck his finger in the sauce pot and then into his mouth.

“A fluke?” The frustration boiled back up in my chest. I couldn’t discount any of this yet. Couldn’t just find a patsy excuse for what happened. I knew if I did that, all I would have left was hope, hope that it wouldn’t happen again.

“It had to be, right?” Lucas turned and slipped his arms around my waist. “Come on, it’s never happened before, it hasn’t happened since, right?”

“It’s been one day. What if it happens again tonight? What if that’s how it works, I go to sleep and then I get a dick! What the fuck is wrong with me?” I knew how ridiculous it sounded but I didn’t care. Nothing was making any sense.

“Nothing, hey,” Luc pulled me close and ran his fingers through my hair. “Nothing is wrong with you.”

“What if I have a penis? Will you still love me?” I was cracking, I was too tired too worried.

“So what?” Lucas stepped back and looked me over. “I’ll still love you,” he smiled.

I wiped a tear away and looked into his eyes. My Luc. My best friend, always by my side. It was true, I could see it in his eyes, he was serious, dick or not, he loved me forever.

We went to bed early that night. I remember we ate the lasagna, knocked off a bottle of wine, and then wandered off to bed early.

It took Lucas a half an hour to fall asleep but I couldn’t. Surrounded by darkness and my own thoughts, all I did was lay there and worry. And eleven o’clock became twelve and I tossed and turned. And twelve became one. And then I started to worry that whatever was happening was somehow time-based, like it would happen again, but not until 2:30.