Bartholomew learns to relax

by Dream Big

An uptight college boy wakes up after a Halloween party with a couple of changes he wasn’t expecting.

Bartholomew knew he shouldn’t have gone to the party.

But no, he had promised his roommate Nick he would go with him.

Nick had a knack for hare-brained schemes and impulsive choices. He was a sweet guy, and never meant harm, but he rarely thought through consequences—and, annoyingly, rarely suffered them. He led a charmed life. He was cute, just athletic enough to be aesthetically pleasing without being bulky, just smart enough to maintain a solid B average without working too hard. He was chatty and friendly and got along with everyone. He’d have a beer with you, or a hit of your joint, but never really got stupid high or drunk—he seemed to produce an abundance of homegrown good vibes and chill.

Consequently, he walked around with a sort of innocent charm that he had no clue about. He was genuinely interested in everything, and was game for all of it if it meant doing something with a friend, but never to extremes. And by the end of freshman year, Nick had innocently fucked his way through about a third of the undergraduate population—without, somehow, leaving a trail of broken hearts and jilted lovers in his wake.

So, a bit of a fuck boy, but one you just couldn’t be mad at. He was just too much fun to be around, and his carefree and sweet nature meant he stayed on friendly terms with pretty much all his exes. He and Bartholomew, however, had never hooked up, despite being fast friends and roommates.

Bartholomew had arrived as uptight and in denial as any freshman, and suffered from anxiety, particularly about physical contact—which had left him with a big fat zero for a love life. But he pushed himself as much as he dared to break out of his shell, and he was good about his meds, and things got better. Maybe something about Nick’s influence started to rub off on him, or maybe it was just that Nick was the social lubricant he needed to feel comfortable meeting new people. He was still pretty shy, but he’d made real progress. He’d also begun to figure out, as he watched Nick go home with boys and girls and men and women, that he was probably at least bi-curious. And when he haltingly revealed that to Nick, he’d gotten a big warm hug and nothing but support. It was not even a shock that when he asked Nick to take him to the LGBTQ+ group meeting, they all knew Nick.

Bartholomew had gone home for the summer but he and Nick planned to room together the next year too. At home, Bartholomew had some difficult conversations—and a much more strained relationship with his family and his brothers in particular. It wasn’t mean, just uncomfortable, and his brothers just didn’t get it at all. His folks chalked it up to being a phase and his therapist was thrilled at his progress, but in the end, it was a bit of a meaningless coming out without having dated boys or girls at all. He’d been glad to return to college.

The first few weeks had been fine—classes were fine, and people had mostly not noticed him unless they already knew him, or he was with Nick (who seemed to know everyone). Physically, he had barely changed since freshman weekend—sandy hair, average height and weight, average build. But Nick, of course, had somehow gained a bit of muscle which only made him cuter. The new dorm had a bit more privacy—they shared a bathroom and a small living area—and Nick tended to wind up in other beds as often as not. And then suddenly, he seemed to pick up on Nick feeling left out, and made a point to stay home a few nights to hang with his bro. They’d agreed that they’d hang at least one night a week, but Nick also prodded him to go out and do something at least one night a week, too.

So when Halloween party season started, of course Nick wanted to hit one or two of them, and Nick was just swept along in the momentum.

The last thing Bartholomew remembered from that night was drinking the punch at a frat house mixer.

Which is why, when he woke up to a very loud noise, he grabbed his large floppy ears and pulled them closed, and rolled over into a ball.

Wait, what large floppy ears?

He sat up suddenly, and his nausea decided to really kick in. He stumbled for the bathroom and barely got into position before he barfed his brains out. When he was sure the demon had left his guts, he pulled himself to the sink and up to the mirror.

And there, atop his head, were two long white rabbit ears.

He squealed in shock and sank down to the floor.

“Bro, you okay?” That was Nick’s voice outside the bathroom door.

“Not really,” Bartholomew replied.

“Are you naked or something?”

“No!”

“Okay, man, coming in…”

Bartholomew didn’t know what to say or do—he just sat there on the commode, staring blankly at his big white bunny ears, which had begun to mirror his expression.

“What the actual fuck,” Nick said, unconsciously reaching out to touch the new appendages.

“Don’t!”

“Sorry man, I couldn’t help it. They’re ….real, aren’t they?”

“How the heck should I know?”

“Dude, they’re your ears. Wait where are your regular ears?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Bartholomew’s eyes darted wildly in sheer panic.

“Whoa, dude, focus and breathe man, it’s all good!” Nick said. This wouldn’t be the first time he had talked Bartholomew down from a spike. “Name three things you can see…”

A few minutes later, he was at least breathing easier. But he was torn between looking anywhere but the mirror, and looking at the mirror. Nick picked up on that and leaned against the sink to block his view.

“Okay. Let’s think logically.”

“I would love to know what logic could possibly explain this. Go on, try!”

“Hey man, I’m just trying to help. Gotta break it down, right? So, it’s either magic or mad science, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Bartholomew said, deadpan.

“So… did you drink anything? Or, hey, were there any pet rabbits at the party?”

“I don’t remember anything after we got there and I had a glass of punch.”

“The big bowl of that orange sherbet ginger ale stuff?”

“Pretty sure there was a gallon of vodka in it, but yeah.”

“Well, I had that too, and no bunny ears,” Nick said. “But I’m guessing you had a lot ,ore of it than I did. You hit the booze pretty hard from what I remember but it was a really good party.”

“Did I have these last night?”

“Not that I remember. Keith said you walked home early. That was around 1am.”

“Keith?”

“Goth guy? Tall, dark hair, eye makeup?”

“I think I do remember talking to him,” Bartholomew said. And then realization dawned. He’d made out with that guy!

“Ah, now you remember! You and he were getting kind of steamy and went upstairs. I was like, finally! And then later, Keith said you went home. When I got in around 3:30, your door was open and you were buried under the covers.”

“I barely remember that. Maybe he knows something?”

“Did you get his number?”

“I barely got his name,” he replied.

“Well,” Nick said, “I’m sure someone will have it, I’ll ask around.”

“Nick, what the heck am I supposed to do?”

“Hmm. They’re kind of cute, you know. Weird, but kind of adorable.”

“Nick!”

“I’m thinking! I mean, either you skip class today, or you go in. But we both have Gardner for Western cCiv, and he always asks for a note from the health center to excuse the absence. You could go to the health center, but I don’t think they can help beyond the note. You can try to hide them or make them part of a costume or something. Like those weeb hats?”

“Oh god my life is over.”

“Nah, man. We’ll figure something out. Go ahead and shower and I’ll see what I can come up with while I make coffee.”

Nodding blankly, Bartholomew began to strip and turned on the shower…only belatedly realizing that Nick was still in the room.

“You…you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not. But I’m also gross and I do need to shower.”

There may have been some aggressive scrubbing elsewhere, but Bartholomew was very careful about washing his hair, and gingerly touched his ears after some soul-searching.

They felt nice, actually. And before he realized he was doing it, he found himself gently massaging the soft fur with shampoo. It was calming, somehow.

He toweled off, drying carefully, and discovered quite by accident that he actually had a pretty good range of motion. They swiveled and bent as needed with no real thought or effort, but actively controlling them required a bit of a mental leap.

He also realized they were far more sensitive than his original ears—he could hear pretty much every noise in the house with remarkable accuracy, and even though the bathroom fan seemed inordinately loud, he could still hear Nick working in the kitchen. He turned off the fan and wrapped the towel around his waist, and darted into his room to pull on some clothes.

And then he joined Nick at the counter, pouring a bowl of cereal and an accepting the steaming cup of black coffee Nick handed him.

“Feeling a little better?”

“A little.”

“Here, try this on,” Nick said, tossing his bro a large light grey knit beanie. “I think your ears might fit in it.”

Bartholomew considered his options, and reluctantly tried it on.

“Feels weird,” he said.

“Looks okay, though. It doesn’t hurt your ears or muffle your hearing does it?”

“No, actually. This might work. For now at least.”

“Good, bro, that’s awesome. Now let’s finish up and head over to class.”

The lecture went surprisingly well, and was interesting enough to keep Bartholomew from constantly googling for answers to his personal dilemma. In fact, he’d been so engrossed he almost forgot about his predicament for a while. He did notice that Nick, who’d sat next to him, kept staring at him, though.

As class ended, Bartholomew quickly packed his things to leave, while Nick was, as usual, cornered by three or four classmates with amiable chatter. Bartholomew left him to it, but before he reached the end of the hall, Nick had caught up.

“Where you going, man?”

“I don’t exactly want to hang out with a crowd right now,” he said.

“Me neither. I get it, bro. But I need to figure out how to get hold of Keith for you.”

Bartholomew leaned his head against a wall and waited for a moment as the rest of the hall emptied out.

“You going to the health center?”

“Please. They will have no clue what to do about this. I’m going back to the room to dig for answers online.”

“Okay. Text if you need anything, I’ve still got another class today. I’ll grab your usual lo mein on the way home, if you want.”

Nick was the best.

Almost three hours later, Nick got home and found his roommate hunched over a computer, typing away. He still had the beanie on.

“I could hear you two floors away.”

“Okayyy,” Nick said. “You gonna take that hat off? Can’t be comfortable.”

“I guess. I kinda got used to it.”

“Oh,” Nick said.

“What do you mean oh?”

“Um. You may want to check your hair in the mirror, man.”

Bartholomew dashed to the bathroom and gasped.

His sandy blond hair had gone completely white.

“What the hell!?!”

Nick sheepishly followed him into the bathroom, intending to console his friend, when they both realized something else.

Normally, both guys were 5’10”. But now, Nick was clearly a few inches taller—if you didn’t count the ears, of course…

“What the hell!?!?!!” Fuck, the panic attack again.

“Hey man, it works for you!”

“What the hell is going on?”

“No idea, man, but you are gonna be okay, I’m here, you’re safe.”

And so it was Nick to the rescue again, going through the breathing and focusing again with him, until finally Bartholomew could breathe again.

“I dunno, B, it may be weird but it is undeniably cute.”

Bartholomew didn’t even want to look at himself, but somehow Nick convinced him to take stock, so that at least they knew what had happened if not why.

Setting aside the foot long bunny ears that had somehow replaced his own, his hair had gone completely white—the same white as his new ears. His eyebrows hadn’t; they’d been sort of a darker blond than his hair before, and if anything they looked a little darker. But he’d also gone from a firm 5’11” to about 5’8”.

“I don’t want cute, I want my height back and my ears back and my hair back to normal.”

“Heh. Did you check if the carpet matched the drapes?”

“…No,” Bartholomew said. “But I have to pee anyway.”

In the bathroom, two things became clear.

The carpet definitely matched the drapes. Perfectly white, but like his head hair, otherwise the same.

But that could not be said of his cock, which felt a bit heftier in his hand as he hauled it out to take a piss. He finished, and yet still the disk remained in his hand. Was he imagining things?

“I can’t exactly go out there and say hey bro, does my dick look bigger to you,” he muttered. Though as soon as he thought it, he could imagine just that. And Nick would protest that he couldn’t know but he’d be happy to help find out, and…

“Nice cock, bro,” nick said, leaning against the door. “You should shut this thing if you don’t want company,” he laughed.

“Shut up,” Bartholomew replied, trying to tuck his cock back into his boxers.

Unfortunately, his dick decided to put up a fight, and quickly got to half mast. Which was, unaccountably, roughly the size his dick had been, hard, yesterday.

“Damn, if I didn’t know better I’d swear you just bleached everything. But I had no clue you were packing.”

“Neither did I. Pretty sure this is kind of new, too.”

“Dude, that’s kind of hot, though,” Nick said. “How big are you normally,” he asked in a somewhat husky voice.

“Like, six. Average.” Both their eyes were glued to the rising star of Bartholomew’s trousers, which was definitely bigger than that already, and clearly not yet finished.

“That,” Nick said, “is at least as big as mine, and I’m about 7 and a half.”

“Shit, this is weird.” He kept growing, throbbing and stretching.

“Fuck, bro, I’ll grab the tape,” Nick said, and darted over to the kitchenette to grab the measuring tape.

Bartholomew sat there stunned as his penis stretched into new territory, torn between mounting terror as his body did yet another weird thing, and the sheer erotic pleasure of watching your own dick get bigger.

“Move your hand,” Nick said, suddenly kneeling in front of him. “Fuck, that’s gotta be about nine inches….yeah, just a little over, actually.” He broke into a wide grin. “Hey, found the three inches you lost, man!”

Bartholomew felt like time slowed way down for a moment as his brain grappled with the latest impossibility. Nick’s lopsided grin slowly dropped, and his head slowly inched down, even as his big brown eyes lost their usual mischief and became serious and focused. He was seeking consent, and before he knew it, Bartholomew had nodded.

Nick was already gobbling his cock when reality snapped back into position. Bartholomew’s hands braced either side of the little toilet alcove as he writhed under his best friend’s ministrations. Nick was clearly no stranger to cock and it didn’t take long for him to work himself al, the way down to his friend’s thicket of shockingly white pubes. He sucked in air, deeply, Mao in, before his throat did this little half-swallow that tipped Bartholomew over the edge. Nick greedily slurped down the eight or nine shots of hot jizz and lovingly cleaned his buddy’s super sensitive penis off as he pulled back.

“Damn, bro, you come a lot. You also smell amazing down there. Did you notice?”

“All I can smell is salty bleach,” Bartholomew replied, dreamily.

“Your spunk tasted pretty good to me,” Nick said, matter of factly. “That was nice, we should do that more often.”

“I agree,” Bartholomew replied lazily.

“Maybe not in the bathroom, next time, okay bud?” Nick stood up, smiling and unconcerned as always, and did a quick mirror check before washing his hands quickly and leaving the room.

Over leftovers, they talked about how to explain Bartholomew’s changes. Nick argued for sticking with the beanie, and explaining the hair as a dye job due to a bet lost. They’d gaslight anyone who challenged the height.

“Okay, I guess it’s a plan. Better than nothing.”

“Cool,” Nick said, breezily. “Now about the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“That king-size carrot you brought to the table,” he said.

Bartholomew blushed. “How can you just say stuff like that?” He mumbled.

“Hah! But really, that’s a big one. And you probably went down a size everywhere else, so you may need to be careful managing things for a bit.”

“Oh. For a minute I thought you were offering to help next time I got a boner.”

“Sure, man. Anytime.”

“Is it because I have a big dick now?”

“What? Dude, I’ve been down to fool around since the first week freshman year. I tried everything to get your attention. I figured you were ace for like, the longest time. And then I figured you knew and weren’t into me. The big old schlong is great and all—really nice—but you were already on my list.”

Bartholomew simply didn’t know how to react to that. He’d been actively pining for a year, twisting himself into circles trying to convince himself sexy Nick was off the table.

“I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey, hey, no, come here buddy,” Nick grabbed him in a big sweet hug. “I should have said something. Or at least guessed your anxiety was in the way.” He pulled Bartholomew’s head toward his own and gently kissed his hair, and stroked the snow-white tresses.

“Why am I like this?” Bartholomew sobbed.

“You just are. No biggie.”

“I mean why am I an anxious mess, not why am I suddenly a fucking bunny,” Bartholomew sniffed.

“Same answer either way. None of it matters to me, bro.”

“Can we just…I dunno, cuddle for a bit?”

“Sure, bro. Let’s put on a movie or something.”

By the end of the evening, they’d wound up cuddled on Bartholomew’s bed watching anime. Nick found himself stroking his friend’s soft hair, and eventually, his soft ears. At first, they twitched at his caress, but eventually Bartholomew relaxed into it and Nick found it soothing, too.

Luckily, it was the weekend, and neither of them had class or campus jobs. So they opted to stay in their dorm as long as they could. Something of the cuddle vibe persisted, at least until nature demanded they address some bodily functions. There was as yet no further change, at least not physically.

Bartholomew was pretty reluctant to go out, but eventually Nick, in a bout of uncharacteristic pragmatism, pointed out that he should look for clothing, at least.

“I think you’ve gone down at least a size, dude. Maybe not in underwear, but everywhere else. And maybe pick up another hat.”

Bartholomew knew his friend was right. And so he allowed himself to be talked into wearing some sweats with a drawstring and a baggy shirt, slid into his sneakers—which somehow still fit okay—popped on the beanie, and followed Nick to the beat up Toyota Nick called Sally.

“Walmart or Target?”

“Ugh, Target. I can’t even with Walmart.”

They beelined for Men’s Clothing, and grabbed a few items to try on. Sure enough, he’d dropped a full size. But the underwear situation would likely need more thought. For now, he grabbed a pack of boxers and hoped they’d contain his enhanced package. If they fit okay, he’d get more.

It was when he started trying on a sweater when he noticed another change.

“Nick!” He hissed, in terrible sotto voce. “Nick!”

“What’s up man, I was looking at these retro tees.”

“Did I have abs this morning?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Well, I do now!”

“Lemme see,” Nick said. Bartholomew opened the door after glancing around quickly.

“Sweet!”

“I never had abs before,” Bartholomew mused, turning to face the mirror in just the sweatpants he’d tried on. “I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” Nick muttered, but his focus was on his friend’s pert little butt.

“You’re not even looking. How do I flex these? Oh, like this,” Bartholomew said, giggling.

“Huh? Yeah, you got it. Damn, that’s kind of not fair. I barely have abs and I hit the gym all the time!”

“Were you eyeing my butt?”

“It’s the new pants. They really show it off.”

Bartholomew found himself flexing his butt cheeks, just to see if he could. The blush that elicited from Nick confirmed that it did.

“Hey, let’s buy this stuff and go home. Meet you at the front, B,” Nick said.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be there in a minute, gotta grab something.”

Five or so minutes later, Bartholomew was in line when Nick ambled into view with a bag from the pharmacy.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll show you later.”

“Okay, be mysterious,” Bartholomew replied.

They made it all the way to the car, and inside it, before Nick’s control broke and he grabbed his friend for an enthusiastic kiss.

“What was that all about?”

“Home first. I’ll show you when we get there.”

One very fast trip later, and they were walking quickly from the car park to the dorm. Nick had longer legs now and thus a small advantage, but Nick could tell there was something wrong. He scrambled to keep up.

Finally they opened their door and Nick practically jumped his friend the moment they crossed the threshold.

“What’s going on?” Bartholomew started to say aloud, but it was obvious that his friend was unlikely to reply. Nick had a predatory look as he practically ripped the shirt off Bartholomew, revealing an unexpectedly toned torso with a rather nice four pack, and a downy white patch of hair trailing down into his sweatpants. Nick hadn’t noticed until just then—they’d interrupted their inventory of hair changes yesterday—but even Bartholomew’s pits had gone white. Though they hadn’t been all that hairy to begin with.

“Pants, please,” Nick said, hoarsely.

“What?”

“Take.” Nick said through gritted teeth. “Your pants. Off.”

Bartholomew said nothing, but began to comply. His own loins had begun to stir, stiffening at Nick’s sudden aggressiveness, which made it a little challenging to just pull the sweats off. He fell backwards into the sofa, kicking off his shoes and shrugging the pants down. His cock had shot up and out of his boxers, reaching almost straight up.

For his part, Nick was suddenly aware of both the pert ass and big dick in front of him, and could not decide which he wanted more.

This time the ass won.

“Roll over,” he barked. “I want to see something.”

“What the … don’t tell me I have a bunny tail!”

“No. Just a great ass.”

And Bartholomew, clueless, twisted himself trying to see it for himself.

“Huh, I’m pretty flexible,” the clueless bunny boy said.

Nick jumped onto the couch over him, and kissed him. “Fuck, why are you so sexy?”

“I’m not,” Bartholomew said. “You’re just like crazy horny or something.”

“Shut up and hand me that bag.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s condoms and lube,” Nick said.

Bartholomew looked in the bag. There were a half dozen boxes of condoms and two large tubes of lube.

“What do you think you’re doing with this stuff?” Bartholomew asked coquettishly.

“You,” Nick replied. “And maybe me, if I can fit that huge dong in me.”

(More to come)

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