"You know, buddy, you wouldn't be able to handle me even if there were two of you."
The mysterious woman he'd spotted across the bar looked him up and down. He hadn't followed her out of the bar, not exactly. He'd been meaning to leave anyway, already settled up his bill and gotten his card back from behind the bar. Just cause he chugged the last of his beer... They'd been chatting so pleasantly. He'd let her talk about herself, even listened to her. She didn't _owe_ him anything of course, but he hadn't wanted the night to end yet.
Her dress clung enticingly as she walked away from him, form fitting yet obscuring. Here in the dim streetlight on the sidewalk, the ends seemed to be made of shadow or mist, undefined and flowing in the wind of her passage. Must be the beer.
She turned and walked towards the alleyway. Must be parked there or something. He followed without thinking, stepping into the shadows. Sober-Trey would've realized how creepy that was, but he wasn't a bad person. He wouldn't do anything she didn't want him to. Other than talk, maybe just talk. Besides, she didn't seem worried at all.
A black cat sauntered out of the shadows and curled itself around her legs. She picked it up and stroked it behind the ears.
"Well, then I wish there were three of me, but even with just one--"
"You know what? I had fun chatting tonight, so I'll grant you that one. Three it is. But you're still not coming home with me, I don't think Abby would like you very much."
"Hettie..." the cat purred. It looked like a patch of shadow more than a cat now, but neither could speak, right? "What are you up to?"
Trey managed a startled "Wha--" before cutting off when her dress became more and more wispy. It still covered her perfectly, but the edges blurred and her eyes started to glow a fluorescent green. Her voice sounded odd, as if she were chanting, but there was something... She was speaking backwards, and not the regular way some people could, but as if a recording of her voice was played back in reverse. Chills ran down his spine. He started to turn to run when there was a flash of bright viridian light. His vision blurred and doubled, and he braced himself for the pain of being hit in the head.
A flash of sensation so strange passed through him, he swore something touched him on every cell of his body, both inside and out. The world lurched around him unevenly in three directions at the same time. He lost his balance, falling to his knees, three sets of hands on three different stretches of pavement, one in a puddle... He could feel his right palm, dry and wet at the same time. Another had a point of bright pain as it leaned on a piece of gravel.
He retched, emptying three stomachs. The splash of beer and bar snacks landing on the pavement came from all around.
"What did--" The echo of his own voice was disorienting, making it hard to speak. He forced himself to focus, spoke despite the echoing. "What did you do to me?"
"I granted your wish. Or cursed you for being a creep and following a lone woman into a dark alleyway. Really, I thought you were different. Oh, and don't think you can have your wicked way with women more easily now, there's--" a brief, ominous pause "--conditions to this."
He looked around, his vision lurching wildly again. To his left -- was that still a concept that made sense? -- there was another man just like him, and another to his right. His perspective shifted and one of them turned their head while the others didn't. Looking himself in the eye was a dizzying experience.
"I wasn't-- I just enjoyed talking to-- talking to you and-- I'm sorry, I didn't-- I would never--"
"Oh, I know you wouldn't, I can read people that well at least. Let's just say you wouldn't be here if I thought you would. Here." She flipped a business card onto the ground in front of one of him. "If you want me to undo this, come see me in a month. But remember, being a creep has little to do with intentions."
With that, he watched as she lifted off the ground a couple of inches and vanished in a burst of wind and a flash of more green light.
---
He woke up with a splitting headache. Willing himself to go back to sleep didn't work. Awareness of the world around him came slowly, starting with the blinding white light from the open curtains. He wasn't alone in bed. He felt otherworldly, like his limbs didn't belong to him.
Trey opened his eyes again. The visual jumble was worse than expected. Christ, how much had he had to drink last night? He seemed to be in his own bed, but who had he brought home? That mysterious woman from the bar?
He sat bolt upright and fell out of the side of the bed simultaneously. Still curled up in the blankets, he grunted at the impact and forced down a retch trying to empty an already empty stomach.
"Fuck." The word echoed from three mouths.
Staying where he was, he tried to focus. So that hadn't been some horrible nightmare. He had been cursed, and this was real, even if it was utterly impossible. He had three bodies now. They were all him. One mind, utterly overloaded with sensory input. Comfortable sheets, hard floor, three points of view.
Trey closed his eyes. He could deal with the sound. Deal with the conflicting sense of touch and the smells and as long as he laid still all the rest. Vision was too messed up to contemplate though. Even with his eyes closed, the veins on the inside of his lids danced in eye watering ways, like looking at one of those crazy dot pictures that was supposed to look 3D.
Slowly, he tried opening one eye. The world lurched again. Christ, how had he even managed to get home last night? A vague memory of stumbling and managing to hail a cab, then a very confused driver opening the door to his apartment for him. He tried to focus on one field of vision. His eyes started to hurt, but he pushed through until he could look around the room without wanting to throw up. The world was still visual cacophony, and opening both eyes made the whole thing even more difficult.
The next step was to try to move just one body. He smacked himself in the head, jammed his hand against the bedframe, the wall, even punched himself in the balls once, but finally he managed to raise just one arm.
"Fuck yeah!" Three voices said in unison.
Another thirty minutes of practice, and he managed to have his body on the floor crawl and then unsteadily stumble into the bathroom. His bladder ached, and telling which one was impossible. He didn't trust his control enough yet to release the flow on just one of him anyway.
The process of getting his second body to the bathroom was a little easier. He even managed to walk the third one over somewhat normally.
Figuring the toilet was too small of a target for now, he turned the shower on and peed into the bathtub, then stumbled to the kitchen one by one, thanking everything he believed in that he didn't have work for three more days. After emptying his bladder -- well, bladders -- and having some Tylenol with ample water, he felt a little better.
It took him most of the morning to make breakfast, even if it was just sandwiches. He kept knocking things over, bumping, even falling over. Falling was the worst, because in a moment of panic, he'd lose the individual control over his bodies and catch himself, either punching something or in one case falling over a second time.
He ordered lunch and dinner off Uber Eats, not trusting himself with the stove yet, and spent the rest of the day trying to process what had happened, and relearn even the most basic skills. The whole experience horrified him at first. He was a freak of nature now. Well, not nature. But a freak nonetheless. He'd have to buy more clothes, do more laundry... How would he have enough control and focus to work? How could he ever find a partner now, or even entertain? Lock two of him in the bedroom when he had friends over?
He felt like trash over following the strange woman into the alley. He never would have sober, but was this punishment fair? He never would've done _anything_, even if he acknowledged that making someone that uncomfortable was enough. Maybe it was fair.
Sleep was hard. He tried piling into the same bed again, but it wasn't made for three bodies and his elbows kept jabbing his ribs. Finally, he gave up and put the inflatable mattress he kept for guests on the floor and laid down on that, his bed, and the couch. Finding a suitable position for three bodies took a while, but finally he managed to drift off to sleep.
By the evening of his second day as triplets, the horror of the situation had settled down to an odd acceptance of a new reality. It felt like a weird sort of grieving. He knew it should bother him, but the more used he got to moving about with three bodies, the less it bugged him.
---
The last day of his long weekend, Trey woke up with a painful erection. Three painful erections. He tried to roll over and get back to sleep, but the curtains in the living room weren't quite closed all the way and the room was too bright. Drifting off with two bodies and having one be wide awake was such a weird sensation he forced himself awake the rest of the way.
He peed, still in the bathtub for now, then tried to make breakfast. It was a lot easier now, sleeping well and the practice the last couple of days let him control his bodies mostly independently. He still knocked a glass of orange juice over when he burned his other self making bacon, but his third self managed to catch the glass before it hit the floor without number one winging the greasy pan across the kitchen.
Even breakfast didn't make his erection go away. Every time it went down a little, he would think of trying to suck his own dick when he was in college. He refused to acknowledge the thought that now he could. The internet had told him that it felt like sucking dick a lot more than it felt like getting your dick sucked anyway so he'd stopped trying.
What would sucking dick feel like, though? The thought skittered across his horny mind like a droplet of water on a hot skillet. He'd never admit it out loud, but he'd always wondered. There had never been an opportunity to... Not really. But now?
Washing the dishes after breakfast was so much easier now. He scrubbed, he dried, he put away, and was done in three minutes flat. Patting himself on the back for a job well done, he burst out laughing. A shower was next, the three of him piling into the tub.
Trey always liked showering with other people, though in the past it had always been girlfriends or one night stands. Brushing against cocks instead of boobs felt a little weird at first, but then it really was just his own. Washing his other's backs saved him from getting the back scrubber he always forgot to grab from the shelf and should really just hang in the shower.
