Flynn woke up slowly, his return to consciousness a gradual lifting of dreamy haze until he finally blinked awake. He had dreamt of… wonderful lips wrapped around his member and visions of fucking Dr. Eklund. He patted by his side only to find the bed empty.
For the first time in many months, Flynn stretched and found his body and muscles relatively pain free. That in and of itself was a miracle of sorts, but the full reality of how the morning had gone left him in a blissful state of contentment. This truly was better than his wildest dreams.
He found a note on the bedside table, penned in the neat and angular script that could only be Dr. Eklund.
Mr. Devers - I appreciate your thorough participation in your care checkup. Fourth Quadrant care is a complex proposition, and the ongoing gathering of data is paramount for ensuring good outcomes. I have taken the liberty of scheduling a followup appointment for this Saturday. If that is not amenable to you, please reach out to our office at 555-734-1219. I believe the extra time allotted to weekend visits may allow us to complete a more comprehensive overview of your condition.
Dr. Eklund
Flynn stared disbelievingly at the note before letting out a full throated laugh. Dr. Eklund was unbelievable. Behind that dispassionate, clinical gaze was an erotic woman of unsurpassed depths.
At the thought of her coming by in two days time, his dick twitched to life again, and Flynn had a moment of worry before it quieted down again. The intensity of his sensations and emotions during their fuck-session had left him drained, and he was slightly worried that was just going to be his life from now on.
Despite the fact that he was off work, the chores around the house weren’t going to do themselves, so Flynn got busy. He thoroughly cleaned the living room, contemplated getting some kind of couch cover if Dr. Eklunds visits were going to come with any regularity, tidied the kitchen, did the laundry, and finally swept and mopped.
By the time he was done, the sun was already on its path downwards, and the rumbling in his stomach let him know that he was both out of food, and very hungry. As much as he wanted to just go back to lightningburger and indulge himself, he knew that wasn’t a sustainable long term solution, so Flynn spent twenty minutes putting together a comprehensive grocery list before grabbing his wallet and keys and setting off.
The adage “Never shop when you’re hungry” obviously applied to him, because when he checked out Flynn winced at the total displayed on the counter. Still, he paid, and by the time he pulled back into his apartment building the only thing on his mind was cooking up a giant portion of food.
He was so consumed by visions of sandwiches, pasta, and bags of chips that he barely managed to dodge out of the way as one of his neighbors exited the elevator in front of him.
“Watch where you’re going!” She snapped at him, as he hopped to the side.
“Oops! Sorry!” Flynn muttered.
Sheesh.
He laboriously turned around in the elevator, his enormous haul clutched in each hand and just barely managed to see the back of his neighbors head as she sped off into the lobby.
What’s her name? 5A? Gwen, I think?
That sounded right at least. He’d spoken to her maybe a handful of time at the seasonal building events, but considering that she lived a floor below him, he could barely put a personality to the name. The only thing he really remembered was that she was kind of a goth.
He sniffed the air in the elevator. And she smelled nice. There was a slight twitch in his pants, and a moment of panic, but thankfully everything subsided by the time the elevator dinged his floor.
Flynn cooked himself a sumptuous feast. Appetizer, entree, even a baked dessert, and he ate his way through it steadily over the course of two hours, savoring each bite like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. In some ways, it was - he’d maybe cooked better before, but he’d never been this
hungry
for his own cooking. Usually it was more fun to cook for other people, but by the time he was done, he was perfectly content.
Afterwards, he was somehow tired again, despite the fact that he’d napped, and slept
two days
prior, but Flynn wasn’t one to eschew proper sleep. He tucked himself into his bed, smelled the remnants of Dr. Eklund’s presence, and slipped off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next day, Flynn awoke with the still marvelous lack of pain and decided it was time to hit the gym again.
To his surprise, the exercises he normally struggled with felt a lot easier than normal. It was like he had a boudnless energy inside of him. He rolled through his normal sets, and then decided to tack on a few extra accessory exercises since he was making such good time.
The biggest problem turned out to be the fact that there were so many attractive women at the gym, sweating and working out all around him. After a while of furiously trying to stop his eyes from coming to rest on every bubble butt and spandex-clad pair of legs, he just put on the loudest workout playlist he had and focused on staring up at the ceiling while he pushed iron.
Flynn left the gym feeling pleasantly sore, but still suspiciously full of energy, a pep in his step that he hadn’t had in more than a year.
One of the best decisions he’d ever made was moving into an apartment complex close to the gym, so most days he just jogged there and back, though he’d hardly felt up to it for most of the past year.
Today, though, the couple of miles went by in a flash. He jogged in past the gates of his complex, breathing lightly and covered in a faint sheen of sweat but otherwise feeling perfectly energized.
He carded into the building, only to walk right into a cacophonous yelling match.
“You fuck! You said you would help me out, and now you’re off at a concert? How dare you!”
Flynn rounded the corner warily, until he saw the source of the commotion. Gwen, the goth from the floor below him, was screaming into the phone, held an inch away from her mouth, her expression livid. Next to her were a stack of large boxes, furniture - obviously, arranged in a neat pile next to the mailroom.
“Fine! Fuck you too, then - you worthless shit!” She bellowed, before angrily ending the call.
Flynn thought it was best to slide through this situation as quickly as possible, but his own politeness portrayed him. When he passed by her, they inadvertently made eye contact, and Flynn’s mouth opened before he could even stop himself.
“Hey. You, uh, good?” He asked.
Gwen frowned at him.
“Do I fucking look good?” She snapped.
“Sorry, sorry!” Flynn said, and held up his hands in apology and skirted around the pile of boxes.
“Ugh. My stupid boyfriend. Well. Not anymore, I guess.” She muttered. “He was supposed to help me move all this new furniture to my aparment. But that
loser
decided to go to a festival without telling me!”
Flynn paused, halfway in front of the elevator, unsure if she was talking to him.
“That, uh… sucks?” He ventured.
“Yeah it does!” She snarled.
She looked at him, then narrowed her eyes.