Just another ordinary day

by YellowJester   

When someone with quite the ambition gets a hold of a reality altering device yet another ordinary day can become anything but.

I woke with a start, my mind still groggy from sleep my vision hazy. It was the kind of sudden wake-up that throws off your whole day, the kind usually prompted by some bad dream or loud noise that wakes you up. Only there had been no such event, my sleep had been peaceful and from what I could remember dreamless, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling something had woken me.

Well, no matter the cause I was up, and judging by the daylight creeping through my shades there was no point falling back to sleep. With a groan, I lifted myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. The alarm on my desk informed me that whatever had woken me up had done so thirty minutes early and so never one to waste time I decided to wank one out before work. Something felt off as I pulled down my pants to reveal my dick, rock hard as it was most mornings. The type of feeling you get when you say a word over and over and it suddenly sounds weird, everything seemed normal, my body was still just as average as when I went to bed, nice strong legs from a childhood of playing soccer and a slight beer belly from my time playing beer pong in college. My face looked the same as well, a generally generic face, adorned by light stubble grown while I slept, and bags under my eyes from my draining corporate job. It was my dick that felt off, foreign, only that was ridiculous, it looked the same as it had since I finished puberty. Just over a foot long and proportionally thick, it was just as average as the rest of my body. Something about thinking of my third leg as average felt wrong but I chalked it up to still disrupted sleep, that was simply how men were, nothing strange about it.

Shanking myself out of my contemplative state I hopped into the shower and went about the act of washing away the sheen of sweat I had gained while I slept. I also took this time to rub one out, using the standard two-hand technique practiced by most men my dick quickly rose to its full size, and within minutes, my tennis ball-sized balls were churning out cum. I thought back to an article I had read in high school that claimed the average male ejaculated a third a gallon of semen per climax, and judging by my emissions that seemed plausible. I supposed the amount coupled with the force accounted for the high rate of condom breakage, not that any but the bravest of women ever allowed penetrative sex.

After maneuvering the shower head to force all the cum down the drain I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, paying special care to ensure that my dick didn’t cause the cloth to come undone. Suddenly I felt a wave pass over me and I felt suddenly nauseous and light-headed. The sensation was mixed with a strange sense of deja vu, and I realized this was the feeling that had woken me up this morning, then just as suddenly the realization was gone along with all memory of the event except a vague sense of unease. Powering through the strange sensation I boldly wiped down the mirror and was confronted once again with a visage that felt somehow off. It wasn’t my average face nor the obscene bulge hidden behind my towel. My body too looked just as average as ever, thick cut pecs, prominent square abs, and bulging 22’’ biceps were nothing to write home about although I supposed my time playing soccer had given my legs an extra boost elevating them from the standard 30-inch thickness to a respectable 35. Luckily for me men are incapable of storing fat otherwise I might have a belly from all those beers I drank in college I thought to myself absently patting my six-pack. Still, in a world where most men are 250 pounds of walking muscle I have always felt sort of insecure about my scrawny 230-pound body.

Quickly forgetting about the strange sensation I finished my morning routine, electing to keep my stubble in the hopes of cultivating a rugged look. I exited the bathroom and opened my closet greeted by the sight of several rows of various dress shirts, embarrassingly all labeled as adult small. Putting on underwear was easy enough as with all menswear my boxers had a special compartment for my hose-like junk. A dress shirt too buttoned easily over my cabbage-sized pecs as of course all men’s shirts were created for just the task.

I was just in the process of squeezing my legs into billowing trousers when I felt another wave pass over me. My already precarious balance caused me to fall, and I caught myself on the edge of my dresser, only it wasn’t a dresser. Why would I have a dresser, I wasn’t a woman—what would I do with clothing? Righting myself against what I realized was a workout bench I glanced down just to reassure myself of my nakedness. I wondered absently where the thought of me owning clothing had come from. What a preposterous idea, that would be like a woman walking around naked. I would be fired on the spot if I showed up in such an offensive garment. Casting the ridiculous idea out of my mind I grabbed my bag and headed off to work.

Saying hi to my hunky neighbor as I passed I finally emerged onto the street. Despite my strange morning, all the world at large appeared the same as it ever was, men on their way to work naked, of course, pecs jiggling as they walked and bare feet smacking against the smooth temperature-controlled cement. I joined the throngs of men crowding the sidewalks and waited at a crosswalk as men showing flesh drove by, their cars of course made specifically large enough to hold their bulk. I became just another face in the crowd, just another man on his way to work, bodybuilder frame revealed to the wind. The eye easily passed over my foot-long dick, the instrument not nearly long enough to garner any attention. Be they young or old, rich or poor, every man was at least 200 pounds of muscle with a shlong to match and of course, all of them were naked; it was simply how the world was, how it had always been.

Descending into the subway station I swiped my metro card and made my way to the appropriate train. As the train pulled in I had just enough to notice the people standing on the other side of the tracks double over before I too was racked with invisible waves of nausea. Then just as suddenly they were over.

Releasing I had fallen but not knowing why I stood back up to my full 7’10” and saw all around me men doing the same. For a moment the doors in front of me looked strange, almost too tall but that didn’t make any sense. They stood just as tall as ever, the standard 10 feet—enough to allow most men to enter without hitting their heads. I knew of course that there were rare men who would still have to duck to enter the train car but for the vast majority of men who averaged around 8’3,’’ ten feet was more than sufficient. I entered the car and sat down, my bare butt brushing up against the perky ass of a blond man with a squished-looking face on one side and a woman in expertly pressed dress slacks and a matching navy blazer on the other.

As the train took off another wave stuck. This one merely caused me to clutch my head as a splitting headache appeared and vanished in a second. The woman next to me was hit harder by the insanely forgotten wave of reality-altering force. Thrown off balance she latched into my left pec, her head was cushioned by the squishy firm muscle. Recovering immediately and feeling somewhat confused as to how she ended up pressed against me she apologized and distracted herself by pulling out her phone and flipping to the camera app to ensure her makeup was not smudged. Though the camera was pointed at herself I could see my reflection, my head towing over hers even in my sitting position.

I certainly wasn’t ugly by any standard but I also wasn’t some model. My chiseled wide jaw was just about as handsome as every other man on the train, although the perfect coating of square stubble that had grown in during the night did lend me a rugged edge. The rest of my features were pretty mundane: clear and pore-less skin, thick square eyebrows and a dimpled wide chin were the default for men, as evidenced by the golden-haired Adonis that sat next to me. Even so, I always liked my piercing bright eyes and high cheekbones even in a world where most men had both.

At long last I reached my stop and exited the car, taking the stairs two at a time to ensure I wasn’t late. My building looked the same as it always did, with large doors to accommodate male employees and in the lobby a giant bronze statue of a man holding the earth, his body naked and extremely well-muscled and hung of course for the sake of realism. Despite my relative scrawniness I still used a male-designated elevator, the female ones not made to handle my weight or height.

The several other men in the elevator and I had only made it a few floors before we were subject to one final and seeming extra powerful shockwave. The weight of the changes enacted easily caused all the men even with their rock-hard muscles to crumple and we collapsed onto each other. My hand somehow ended up gasping the long penis of a 40-year-old somethings accountant with a perfectly maintained salt and pepper beard. For a moment I moved to let go of his member before reality snapped back in. It would be incredibly rude for me to begin a morning grope and not bring him to completion. I had already made a major faux pas by not kissing my coworker hello. This error in tact was quickly rectified as the rest of the elevator ride turned into a make-out session. By my floor the sexy accountant I was giving a handjob to reached completion and I took his load as my breakfast. As I left he spanked my ass and stuck his business card between my butt checks. Guess he liked my elevator pitch.

I went straight to my boss’s office as was customary and gave the 350-pound silver fox a quick blow job before he transferred his member into my ass and fucked me while we discussed business. Turns out the reality-warping machine he had invested in was broken into this morning, although as far as anyone could tell no damage had been done nor had the machine been used.

“Makes sense,” I told him in-between moans as he obliterated my prostate. “I imagine we would know if someone were to fuck with reality.”

My boss clenched his superhumanly wide lantern jaw and straightened up to his full over eight-foot height, both football-sized biceps flexed behind his head. “You’re right on that account, kid… today is just another ordinary day.”

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