You frantically look around, scanning for potential witnesses, “Now? Are you sure?”

“If I didn’t think it was IMPORTANT,” Kyle hissed, “I wouldn’t be doin’ this. Just hurry it up, will ya? I’m not missing this movie because you’re too much of a pussy to do what you’re told.”

Not needing to be told twice, you unhook your belt. You had planned to have a nice day with your old pal and roommate, show him things can still be normal, but getting his holes filled in a public area did not keep his mind off of his current predicament, no matter how much he needed it. Kyle wouldn’t say exactly what he said to that witch that landed him in such a compromising situation, but whatever it was, it HAD to have been horrible. Before he confided in you, he tried to stave off the worst of it on his own, ending up in the state he was in now. Day after day, you watched, slowly but undeniably, as pecs softened and expanded into boobs, beard shedding to reveal plump, bright red lips, and a half-foot of height’s worth of mass seemingly pooling straight to his ass. He managed to retain his old mind, but whether that was an oversight on the witch’s part was up for debate, as he was acutely aware how much his new sex drive dominated his decision-making. From an outside perspective, it was baffling, horrifying, and concerningly captivating, not even knowing what was going on until that one fateful night when Kyle came into your room to explain everything he knew about the curse...including the solution. The changes weren’t reversible, but he could at least stop the rapid slide towards bimofication, provided he had access to REAL dick, not the silicone substitutes he tried to make do with previously. That’s where you came in. You were reluctant at first. Granted, the prospect of it all, just being this close to such a beautiful woman, was intoxicating, but it was Kyle, for crying out loud, you’ve known him as a dude for years! But you had to, right? For your friend. What a great decision that was. He was an animal, bubble butt bouncing on top of you like his life depended on it. It was going to be impossible to see Kyle as solely a platonic, male friend after such a carnal, passionate night. When it was over, you were ready to pass out from exhaustion/pleasure, barely noticing Kyle silently slink back to his own room, thighs glistening with your mingled sinful juices.
 
From there, the two of you formed a sort of friends-with-benefits situation, one of necessity, as Kyle was quick to remind you. A part of you wished you could skip your nightly ritual just once, maybe a couple of times, (as if you had the self-control) just to see how much more junk Kyle would pack in his trunk, but going against your homie’s wishes to alter their body further would be beyond messed up. Besides, you could barely handle all of those curves as is. It was a good system, but lately Kyle was needing more than a single session a night to be satiated. Usually it was just a quickie when you got home from work, other times- more extreme times- you found yourself bending him over a park bench, doing your damnest not to moan too loudly.