Grizzly Science - Ch. 7
Chapter 8
Rain pattered on the roof of the house, as Grant opened his eyes to darkness, with light slipping in through curtains around the room. His first thought was that it was morning.
His second and resigned thought that he would have to go into work.
Grant pulled himself upright, and his feet onto the carpet. He sighed, dangling his arms between his legs. He wondered if he should call in sick. Even if he felt fine now -- perhaps it might be best to do that.
He sprung to his feet with ease, and made his way to the phone set in the wall near the hallway leading to the bathroom. Noting the time, he shrugged, knowing that it was not quite time to be at work but not too early either.
Picking up the receiver, he dialed his boss, and bit his lip. As long as he'd been working at his job, he had never taken a sick day in his life, and some of the side effects that he had heard concerned him.
Common sense told him that it would be playing it safe to take several days to almost a week's leave.
A chipper voice answered the phone, and Grant spoke quietly. "Um, this is Grant Peterson. I've come down with something, and need about 3-5 days of sick leave."
His boss' voice grew concerned. "Grant? What is it?"
Grant gazed downward and sighed.
As the silence grew awkward, the boss sighed as well. "Alright. Fair enough. You will need to file some paperwork when you come back to work."
Grant spoke in an assertive voice. "I will, sir. Thank you."
The line went dead as his boss hung up.
Grant put the receiver back in it's cradle, and his hand lingered on the phone. He wasn't sure if he shouldn't have kept his exact reasons private, particularly to his boss, but he probably would live anyways, so why tell him?
He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. His lungs were still raspy from the coughing fit several days ago, but he was content in the knowledge that he now had enough time for the nanites to do their thing, he hoped.
His glance fell on the cigar case, and he frowned. He hadn't really had much chance to smoke a stogie since before his appointment.
Grant suddenly wanted to smoke. Not as savagely as the other day, but his mind and body felt like they needed to savor the scent and taste of a stogie.
He walked purposefully to the cigar case, drawing his half-used stogie, and lit it, puffing at it until a steady glow began.
He sucked at the cigar until a soothing feeling welled through his body. He felt a tingling sensation begin at his throat, then spread through his chest, and down to his stomach.
His loins twitched and swelled slightly. Grant inhaled in the smoke that wafted in front of him deeply, and felt his body tense and relax at the same time. He unconsciously groped himself, and exhaled sharply as his member swelled harder.
His mind wandered aimlessly until it settled on what he viewed as hot.
Brent. His mind imagined the red-headed bear naked -- with a nice sprawl of fur from his chest down to his loins. His boxer briefs filled out as his dick became hard as steel, stretching the fabric outwards as far as it'd allow.
Grant gritted his teeth, feeling damn horny, and swore, realizing his dick had been harder than it had been in years. He squirmed as he pulled his briefs down letting them fall to his ankles, freeing himself. He groaned in relief. His dick sprang free, bouncing upward and settling in a 90 degree angle.
Pawing his member, he groaned as exquisite sensations, old and familiar, swept through his loins.
Each stroke felt silky soft and he could feel his calluses bump against each vein in his eight inch dick.
His dick twitched and throbbed every time he pushed his hand in a fist down to his base, holding it there for several moments, then repeating in slow motion.
Grant sucked slowly on the base of his stogie, fantasizing it was Brent's dick that was receiving his attention.
He felt the beginnings of a climax, and started stroking faster. Soon, his hand was nearly a blur, as he imagined himself screwing the red-head from behind. That did him in as his dick swelled thicker and harder.
He clamped his teeth on his cigar butt and growled loudly, as his dick throbbed, and darkened to a light purple before spitting ropes of thick cum across the room. The first hit the back of the couch, and the resulting spurts hit the middle cushion of the couch.
His legs buckled once as he groaned, wringing out the last shot out of his dick.
He let go of his dick, his body trembling, as it cooled down. His chest heaved strongly, and he groaned as the raspy feeling came back, but managed to breathe slowly.
His mind was numb with shock. If the nanites could do this... It had been years since he had even feigned interest in even pawing off or fantasized about another man. And he had never shot so far or so much in his life.
His dick was drooling the remnant of his last spurt from his glans. He scooped it up with two fingers and sniffed it, then took his stogie out of his mouth. He stuck his fingers in his mouth, and sucked on it, finding it salty and sweet at the same time. He gazed down and saw his dick jerk upwards slightly.
Grant grinned.
His dick was still at near full mast, and he assessed his own reserves, then blinked in mild surprise.
He was still raring to go.
Grant smirked. He took his cigar out of his mouth, and shrugged. It was time to get down to business. But first, he probably ought to clean that mess up -- the sperm was getting rapidly soaked into the couch, but he should at least make a token attempt.
He grabbed some tissue from the kleenex box on the table and tried to scoop the thick sperm up that hadn't evaporated or absorbed into the couch.
Grant knew that he wouldn't get everything out, but at least he could do it more properly, instead of splattering it on everything in sight.
He threw the sodden tissues in the trash by the kitchen, then walked back to the couch. His stogie was getting burnt into next to nothing, so he ground the butt into his ashtray, extinguishing the lit end.
Grant's member had deflated to a half-hard state in the interim. His pudgy dick hung down about six inches in length, arched over his heavy low-hanging hairy nuts.
He decided that it might be a good idea to lay down on the couch, and fantasize about a certain red-haired bear. He did have other things to do, but it was so deliciously exciting to jerk off at the moment.
It seemed like an entirely new sensation for him.
His idle thoughts seemed to spark a twitch in his dick, as he felt it harden a bit more. His grin became a lustful smirk as he got himself onto the couch, and laid on his back.
He reveled in the wonderful feelings that his dick was sending through his body and his brain. How could he have forgotten how good this was?
Grant sat up, wriggling his shirt off, and depositing it on the floor by him. That felt good -- he had been feeling warm from his earlier exertions. Not quite sweating, but his skin was flushed and warm to the touch.
Laying back, he could feel the moist streak smearing his back slightly. That he didn't really mind. He wriggled, getting more comfortable.
Exhaling softly, his eyes gazed at the ceiling, going vacant, as his imagination kicked in.
His mind returned to the last image in his mind but with one difference. He imagined Brent straddling his hips and kissing him with a passion, as he visualized himself rubbing Brent's back and butt, squeezing the furry red cheeks.
Grant involuntarily moaned and half winced as his boxer briefs suddenly stretched very tautly as his member became fully engorged and hard.
He grunted as he shifted around, pushing the briefs down past his balls, and sighed in relief as his dick thumped his gut then towered straight up.
He slowly trailed his fingers up his gut, letting them lightly rub his fur, sending ticklish and erotic sensations into his loins. His fingers didn't stop as they weaved themselves into his lush chest fur, and as his fingers grazed a nipple, he bit his lip in a sudden jolt of electricity.
His nipple stiffened as he rubbed a finger around the nub, and it sent shocks of pleasure to his balls.
His breath was becoming more shallow and changing to soft panting.
Soon after, his other hand did the same to the other nipple, and he growled through gritted teeth, as the other nub hardened.
He felt his dick throb more rapidly as he toyed with his nipples, rolling them around with his thumbs; his eyes rolled back, then he closed his eyes, moaning in blissful ecstasy.
Getting lost in the sensations, he imagined that Brent was putting his dick in his butt...and imagined how hot and velvety the interior would be. His dick spasmed, as he squeezed his hard nubs repeatedly.
He then visualized Brent slowly riding his dick -- up and down, up and down, with a devilish grin on his bearded face. His fingers continued to tease his hardened nipples.
It was the visualization of Brent leaning into his face and kissing him passionately at the same time, when Grant's whole body stiffened. He bit off an strangled shout as his dick erupted a blast of sperm and continued to spurt for what seemed like an eternity to him.
His orgasm had built up steadily, then soared to a wave of lust and need, and broke into a torrent of release.
A wet splat hit the ceiling, then another spurted past Grant's head, and the last few hit his beard.
His body slowly relaxed, as his panting soon became shallow breaths.
Grant licked the bottom of his beard with his tongue, trying to reach his own seed. He was starting to enjoy his own seed, where he hadn't really in the past. He caressed his chest and stomach fur softly, feeling buoyant and satisfied for the moment.
He laid there thinking. Not many men had made him respond so strongly...but he only had met the man for only about a half hour... What did it mean?
Did Brent even like him? Was Brent simply just someone he thought hunky, and prime fantasy material? The red-headed guy seemed nice and decent, but it was no use analyzing what could be. For now.
He scowled mentally, grabbing another tissue to clean his beard up better, and left the tissue on the carpeted floor by him.
As he brought his hand to his chest, he blinked slowly and yawned widely, feeling slightly tired.
Perhaps a nap'll help...
As soon as his eyes shut, he slumbered.
Two hours passed as Grant's form lay there unmoving in slumber.
He sleepily moved to face the back, and awoke immediately, feeling something was amiss. His face grimaced, as he realized he could taste a metallic bite as he exhaled. His nose wrinkled as it registered a coppery smell from the back of his throat wafting through his nose.
His stomach growled in hunger.
Grant scowled, closing his eyes in irritation. He covered his eyes with his hand, and muttered to himself. "Here we go again."
He pushed himself off the couch, and was surprised that he didn't feel so exhausted. Quite the opposite. It seemed as if he had more energy than before. He sat up on the couch, and went into the kitchen to make more food.
And as usual, he found himself eating until he didn't feel hungry, and about the same amount as he had the previous few times. He hoped it wouldn't become a frequent thing... he wouldn't have enough money to keep himself supplied if these hunger attacks happened that often.
He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to worry about it. He had the suspicion that it was necessary for the treatment to work fully.
Half-expecting his reserves to be low like they were the other night, he was surprised that he felt full of energy instead, like he had gotten a full night's sleep in the last several hours.
Shrugging his muscular shoulders, he walked back to the couch, picking up the tissues and tossing them in the trash. He grabbed his shirt as well, along with his pants.
Halting his steps, he pulled the card out of his pants pocket, and studied it. It was a standard white business card with the Tech-Nol logo embossed in the top left, and Brent's name in the middle, and his position right under it.
Below that was an imprinted phone number. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that Brent had scribbled down a different number under the previous number.
Brent had given him his home phone??
Grant leaned over the coffee table and laid the card there, for easy reach. He was very tempted to use it, but Brent had said it was only for emergencies... He gritted his teeth as his dick responded to his unconscious desire by thickening harder.
He scowled. Time for a very cold shower. He was feeling decidedly grubby and a bit messy. He grinned ruefully at the last.
Grabbing a towel and a cloth, he spent nearly a hour in the shower, enjoying it to the utmost. Despite trying to take a 'cold shower', he ended up spraying the shower door with another load.
Rinsing and drying himself off with the towel, he stood at the sink, doing what he normally did in the mornings -- brush his teeth, and comb his hair.
He walked into his bedroom, and looked in his closet. He unconsciously had started scratching his chest, feeling a slight itching. At first, it seemed to go away.
He considered his choices -- casual or naked? He decided to go casual -- that way he could possibly run to the grocery store if needed, or maybe rent a movie or two.
He randomly plucked another baggy t-shirt, and rummaged through his pants drawer, and yanked some sweatpants out.
He pulled the sweatpants on with an amused grin. He didn't need to worry about any restrictions now. Scooping up the T-shirt from the bed, he tugged it over his head and wriggled into it.
Grant studied himself in the mirror and shrugged. It'd do for now. He could always put on some undies later if necessary.
The itching continued to grow stronger, as he frowned, looking at his chest. He pulled his shirt off and looked at it in the mirror, trying to figure out if he had a rash. His skin looked the same as usual.
He scratched his chest a little harder, trying to alleviate the itching without success.
Soon he realized it was coming from inside his chest... then pain started -- light twinges at random spots inside his chest.
He winced as his lungs started itching and tingling at the same time, as if tiny insects started to crawl rapidly around inside.
He half-ran and half stumbled into the living room, grabbing the cordless phone off the wall, and stumbled to his knees in front of the coffee table.
Panting, he leaned on the table's surface, feeling dizzy. The crawling sensation continued to increase, and was getting more painful by the minute. He was also starting to panic.
His hands shook, and the receiver slipped out of his hand clattering onto the table. He grunted in frustration, but he managed to slide the card closer to him.
Grant bit his lip trying to relax but failing, and fumbled trying to dial Brent's number.
Thankfully it only rung twice before the familiar voice spoke. "Yes?"
Grant was having difficulty breathing, and managed to speak in short gasping breaths. "I-it's Grant. S-something's wrong -"
Brent's voice became alarmed as it rose an octave. "What? What's wrong?"
Grant gritted out a response. "I can't breathe. Lungs o-on fire."
Brent shouted over the phone. "Can you tell me what the scanner says?"
Grant growled out a reply. "I...I can't make h-heads or tails out of it."
Brent must have been very worried, as he only spoke one more question. "Where do you live? Tell me! I'm on my way."
Grant heaved once more then managed a weak whisper, speaking his address haltingly.
Brent spoke in a reassuring tone as one would use to soothe a scared child. "It'll be fine, Grant. Just hold on until I get there. I'll be there in at least 5 minutes, I hope."
Grant heard the click of Brent hanging up, and slid to his butt, breathing shallowly. It felt as if his chest was suffering from a major case of heartburn, but it was spread out through his entire torso.
He clenched his fist, closing his eyes while trying to relax, and hoping that nothing was wrong.
He hunched over as the crawling/burning/itching sensation seemed to intensify, with a low moan of pain from his lips.
At what seemed like an eternity later to Grant, he heard a car pull in nearby, and he grunted as he made his way to the front door from the coffee table to unlock it, then collapsed on his back with a loud groan. He felt the indescribable urge to scratch his chest, but it would be useless, so he lay there, his eyes shut tightly, trying to cope with the pain.
He suddenly felt warm, and started to sweat lightly. The pain still continued to plague him. Grant panted shallowly, gazing at the ceiling without seeing it.
His mind focused in the direction of the front door, as he swiveled his head toward the door, hearing a timid knock. A masculine voice called out, "Grant?"
Grant couldn't move his body, and barely gasped out. "Come in!"
The door slowly opened, as Brent walked in to see Grant on the ground.
Brent blinked in alarm, and gasped, scrambling to his knees by Grant's prone form. He quickly checked Grant's pulse. It was racing faster than usual. Grant was also hot to the touch.
Grant's body twitched as he kept rubbing his chest, and his eyebrows had beetled together in pain. He was moaning now, with tears down his face.
Brent felt powerless to do anything to help, but he noticed the scanner on the coffee table, then quickly grabbed it. He frowned as he checked the current readings, then he smiled brightly, laying a hand on Grant's forearm, seemingly pleased at something.
[TBC]
[Previous: Chapter 6] [Next: Chapter 8]
Rain pattered on the roof of the house, as Grant opened his eyes to darkness, with light slipping in through curtains around the room. His first thought was that it was morning.
His second and resigned thought that he would have to go into work.
Grant pulled himself upright, and his feet onto the carpet. He sighed, dangling his arms between his legs. He wondered if he should call in sick. Even if he felt fine now -- perhaps it might be best to do that.
He sprung to his feet with ease, and made his way to the phone set in the wall near the hallway leading to the bathroom. Noting the time, he shrugged, knowing that it was not quite time to be at work but not too early either.
Picking up the receiver, he dialed his boss, and bit his lip. As long as he'd been working at his job, he had never taken a sick day in his life, and some of the side effects that he had heard concerned him.
Common sense told him that it would be playing it safe to take several days to almost a week's leave.
A chipper voice answered the phone, and Grant spoke quietly. "Um, this is Grant Peterson. I've come down with something, and need about 3-5 days of sick leave."
His boss' voice grew concerned. "Grant? What is it?"
Grant gazed downward and sighed.
As the silence grew awkward, the boss sighed as well. "Alright. Fair enough. You will need to file some paperwork when you come back to work."
Grant spoke in an assertive voice. "I will, sir. Thank you."
The line went dead as his boss hung up.
Grant put the receiver back in it's cradle, and his hand lingered on the phone. He wasn't sure if he shouldn't have kept his exact reasons private, particularly to his boss, but he probably would live anyways, so why tell him?
He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. His lungs were still raspy from the coughing fit several days ago, but he was content in the knowledge that he now had enough time for the nanites to do their thing, he hoped.
His glance fell on the cigar case, and he frowned. He hadn't really had much chance to smoke a stogie since before his appointment.
Grant suddenly wanted to smoke. Not as savagely as the other day, but his mind and body felt like they needed to savor the scent and taste of a stogie.
He walked purposefully to the cigar case, drawing his half-used stogie, and lit it, puffing at it until a steady glow began.
He sucked at the cigar until a soothing feeling welled through his body. He felt a tingling sensation begin at his throat, then spread through his chest, and down to his stomach.
His loins twitched and swelled slightly. Grant inhaled in the smoke that wafted in front of him deeply, and felt his body tense and relax at the same time. He unconsciously groped himself, and exhaled sharply as his member swelled harder.
His mind wandered aimlessly until it settled on what he viewed as hot.
Brent. His mind imagined the red-headed bear naked -- with a nice sprawl of fur from his chest down to his loins. His boxer briefs filled out as his dick became hard as steel, stretching the fabric outwards as far as it'd allow.
Grant gritted his teeth, feeling damn horny, and swore, realizing his dick had been harder than it had been in years. He squirmed as he pulled his briefs down letting them fall to his ankles, freeing himself. He groaned in relief. His dick sprang free, bouncing upward and settling in a 90 degree angle.
Pawing his member, he groaned as exquisite sensations, old and familiar, swept through his loins.
Each stroke felt silky soft and he could feel his calluses bump against each vein in his eight inch dick.
His dick twitched and throbbed every time he pushed his hand in a fist down to his base, holding it there for several moments, then repeating in slow motion.
Grant sucked slowly on the base of his stogie, fantasizing it was Brent's dick that was receiving his attention.
He felt the beginnings of a climax, and started stroking faster. Soon, his hand was nearly a blur, as he imagined himself screwing the red-head from behind. That did him in as his dick swelled thicker and harder.
He clamped his teeth on his cigar butt and growled loudly, as his dick throbbed, and darkened to a light purple before spitting ropes of thick cum across the room. The first hit the back of the couch, and the resulting spurts hit the middle cushion of the couch.
His legs buckled once as he groaned, wringing out the last shot out of his dick.
He let go of his dick, his body trembling, as it cooled down. His chest heaved strongly, and he groaned as the raspy feeling came back, but managed to breathe slowly.
His mind was numb with shock. If the nanites could do this... It had been years since he had even feigned interest in even pawing off or fantasized about another man. And he had never shot so far or so much in his life.
His dick was drooling the remnant of his last spurt from his glans. He scooped it up with two fingers and sniffed it, then took his stogie out of his mouth. He stuck his fingers in his mouth, and sucked on it, finding it salty and sweet at the same time. He gazed down and saw his dick jerk upwards slightly.
Grant grinned.
His dick was still at near full mast, and he assessed his own reserves, then blinked in mild surprise.
He was still raring to go.
Grant smirked. He took his cigar out of his mouth, and shrugged. It was time to get down to business. But first, he probably ought to clean that mess up -- the sperm was getting rapidly soaked into the couch, but he should at least make a token attempt.
He grabbed some tissue from the kleenex box on the table and tried to scoop the thick sperm up that hadn't evaporated or absorbed into the couch.
Grant knew that he wouldn't get everything out, but at least he could do it more properly, instead of splattering it on everything in sight.
He threw the sodden tissues in the trash by the kitchen, then walked back to the couch. His stogie was getting burnt into next to nothing, so he ground the butt into his ashtray, extinguishing the lit end.
Grant's member had deflated to a half-hard state in the interim. His pudgy dick hung down about six inches in length, arched over his heavy low-hanging hairy nuts.
He decided that it might be a good idea to lay down on the couch, and fantasize about a certain red-haired bear. He did have other things to do, but it was so deliciously exciting to jerk off at the moment.
It seemed like an entirely new sensation for him.
His idle thoughts seemed to spark a twitch in his dick, as he felt it harden a bit more. His grin became a lustful smirk as he got himself onto the couch, and laid on his back.
He reveled in the wonderful feelings that his dick was sending through his body and his brain. How could he have forgotten how good this was?
Grant sat up, wriggling his shirt off, and depositing it on the floor by him. That felt good -- he had been feeling warm from his earlier exertions. Not quite sweating, but his skin was flushed and warm to the touch.
Laying back, he could feel the moist streak smearing his back slightly. That he didn't really mind. He wriggled, getting more comfortable.
Exhaling softly, his eyes gazed at the ceiling, going vacant, as his imagination kicked in.
His mind returned to the last image in his mind but with one difference. He imagined Brent straddling his hips and kissing him with a passion, as he visualized himself rubbing Brent's back and butt, squeezing the furry red cheeks.
Grant involuntarily moaned and half winced as his boxer briefs suddenly stretched very tautly as his member became fully engorged and hard.
He grunted as he shifted around, pushing the briefs down past his balls, and sighed in relief as his dick thumped his gut then towered straight up.
He slowly trailed his fingers up his gut, letting them lightly rub his fur, sending ticklish and erotic sensations into his loins. His fingers didn't stop as they weaved themselves into his lush chest fur, and as his fingers grazed a nipple, he bit his lip in a sudden jolt of electricity.
His nipple stiffened as he rubbed a finger around the nub, and it sent shocks of pleasure to his balls.
His breath was becoming more shallow and changing to soft panting.
Soon after, his other hand did the same to the other nipple, and he growled through gritted teeth, as the other nub hardened.
He felt his dick throb more rapidly as he toyed with his nipples, rolling them around with his thumbs; his eyes rolled back, then he closed his eyes, moaning in blissful ecstasy.
Getting lost in the sensations, he imagined that Brent was putting his dick in his butt...and imagined how hot and velvety the interior would be. His dick spasmed, as he squeezed his hard nubs repeatedly.
He then visualized Brent slowly riding his dick -- up and down, up and down, with a devilish grin on his bearded face. His fingers continued to tease his hardened nipples.
It was the visualization of Brent leaning into his face and kissing him passionately at the same time, when Grant's whole body stiffened. He bit off an strangled shout as his dick erupted a blast of sperm and continued to spurt for what seemed like an eternity to him.
His orgasm had built up steadily, then soared to a wave of lust and need, and broke into a torrent of release.
A wet splat hit the ceiling, then another spurted past Grant's head, and the last few hit his beard.
His body slowly relaxed, as his panting soon became shallow breaths.
Grant licked the bottom of his beard with his tongue, trying to reach his own seed. He was starting to enjoy his own seed, where he hadn't really in the past. He caressed his chest and stomach fur softly, feeling buoyant and satisfied for the moment.
He laid there thinking. Not many men had made him respond so strongly...but he only had met the man for only about a half hour... What did it mean?
Did Brent even like him? Was Brent simply just someone he thought hunky, and prime fantasy material? The red-headed guy seemed nice and decent, but it was no use analyzing what could be. For now.
He scowled mentally, grabbing another tissue to clean his beard up better, and left the tissue on the carpeted floor by him.
As he brought his hand to his chest, he blinked slowly and yawned widely, feeling slightly tired.
Perhaps a nap'll help...
As soon as his eyes shut, he slumbered.
Two hours passed as Grant's form lay there unmoving in slumber.
He sleepily moved to face the back, and awoke immediately, feeling something was amiss. His face grimaced, as he realized he could taste a metallic bite as he exhaled. His nose wrinkled as it registered a coppery smell from the back of his throat wafting through his nose.
His stomach growled in hunger.
Grant scowled, closing his eyes in irritation. He covered his eyes with his hand, and muttered to himself. "Here we go again."
He pushed himself off the couch, and was surprised that he didn't feel so exhausted. Quite the opposite. It seemed as if he had more energy than before. He sat up on the couch, and went into the kitchen to make more food.
And as usual, he found himself eating until he didn't feel hungry, and about the same amount as he had the previous few times. He hoped it wouldn't become a frequent thing... he wouldn't have enough money to keep himself supplied if these hunger attacks happened that often.
He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to worry about it. He had the suspicion that it was necessary for the treatment to work fully.
Half-expecting his reserves to be low like they were the other night, he was surprised that he felt full of energy instead, like he had gotten a full night's sleep in the last several hours.
Shrugging his muscular shoulders, he walked back to the couch, picking up the tissues and tossing them in the trash. He grabbed his shirt as well, along with his pants.
Halting his steps, he pulled the card out of his pants pocket, and studied it. It was a standard white business card with the Tech-Nol logo embossed in the top left, and Brent's name in the middle, and his position right under it.
Below that was an imprinted phone number. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that Brent had scribbled down a different number under the previous number.
Brent had given him his home phone??
Grant leaned over the coffee table and laid the card there, for easy reach. He was very tempted to use it, but Brent had said it was only for emergencies... He gritted his teeth as his dick responded to his unconscious desire by thickening harder.
He scowled. Time for a very cold shower. He was feeling decidedly grubby and a bit messy. He grinned ruefully at the last.
Grabbing a towel and a cloth, he spent nearly a hour in the shower, enjoying it to the utmost. Despite trying to take a 'cold shower', he ended up spraying the shower door with another load.
Rinsing and drying himself off with the towel, he stood at the sink, doing what he normally did in the mornings -- brush his teeth, and comb his hair.
He walked into his bedroom, and looked in his closet. He unconsciously had started scratching his chest, feeling a slight itching. At first, it seemed to go away.
He considered his choices -- casual or naked? He decided to go casual -- that way he could possibly run to the grocery store if needed, or maybe rent a movie or two.
He randomly plucked another baggy t-shirt, and rummaged through his pants drawer, and yanked some sweatpants out.
He pulled the sweatpants on with an amused grin. He didn't need to worry about any restrictions now. Scooping up the T-shirt from the bed, he tugged it over his head and wriggled into it.
Grant studied himself in the mirror and shrugged. It'd do for now. He could always put on some undies later if necessary.
The itching continued to grow stronger, as he frowned, looking at his chest. He pulled his shirt off and looked at it in the mirror, trying to figure out if he had a rash. His skin looked the same as usual.
He scratched his chest a little harder, trying to alleviate the itching without success.
Soon he realized it was coming from inside his chest... then pain started -- light twinges at random spots inside his chest.
He winced as his lungs started itching and tingling at the same time, as if tiny insects started to crawl rapidly around inside.
He half-ran and half stumbled into the living room, grabbing the cordless phone off the wall, and stumbled to his knees in front of the coffee table.
Panting, he leaned on the table's surface, feeling dizzy. The crawling sensation continued to increase, and was getting more painful by the minute. He was also starting to panic.
His hands shook, and the receiver slipped out of his hand clattering onto the table. He grunted in frustration, but he managed to slide the card closer to him.
Grant bit his lip trying to relax but failing, and fumbled trying to dial Brent's number.
Thankfully it only rung twice before the familiar voice spoke. "Yes?"
Grant was having difficulty breathing, and managed to speak in short gasping breaths. "I-it's Grant. S-something's wrong -"
Brent's voice became alarmed as it rose an octave. "What? What's wrong?"
Grant gritted out a response. "I can't breathe. Lungs o-on fire."
Brent shouted over the phone. "Can you tell me what the scanner says?"
Grant growled out a reply. "I...I can't make h-heads or tails out of it."
Brent must have been very worried, as he only spoke one more question. "Where do you live? Tell me! I'm on my way."
Grant heaved once more then managed a weak whisper, speaking his address haltingly.
Brent spoke in a reassuring tone as one would use to soothe a scared child. "It'll be fine, Grant. Just hold on until I get there. I'll be there in at least 5 minutes, I hope."
Grant heard the click of Brent hanging up, and slid to his butt, breathing shallowly. It felt as if his chest was suffering from a major case of heartburn, but it was spread out through his entire torso.
He clenched his fist, closing his eyes while trying to relax, and hoping that nothing was wrong.
He hunched over as the crawling/burning/itching sensation seemed to intensify, with a low moan of pain from his lips.
At what seemed like an eternity later to Grant, he heard a car pull in nearby, and he grunted as he made his way to the front door from the coffee table to unlock it, then collapsed on his back with a loud groan. He felt the indescribable urge to scratch his chest, but it would be useless, so he lay there, his eyes shut tightly, trying to cope with the pain.
He suddenly felt warm, and started to sweat lightly. The pain still continued to plague him. Grant panted shallowly, gazing at the ceiling without seeing it.
His mind focused in the direction of the front door, as he swiveled his head toward the door, hearing a timid knock. A masculine voice called out, "Grant?"
Grant couldn't move his body, and barely gasped out. "Come in!"
The door slowly opened, as Brent walked in to see Grant on the ground.
Brent blinked in alarm, and gasped, scrambling to his knees by Grant's prone form. He quickly checked Grant's pulse. It was racing faster than usual. Grant was also hot to the touch.
Grant's body twitched as he kept rubbing his chest, and his eyebrows had beetled together in pain. He was moaning now, with tears down his face.
Brent felt powerless to do anything to help, but he noticed the scanner on the coffee table, then quickly grabbed it. He frowned as he checked the current readings, then he smiled brightly, laying a hand on Grant's forearm, seemingly pleased at something.
[TBC]
[Previous: Chapter 6] [Next: Chapter 8]
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