Be Careful What You Wish For (TG Story) - Chapter 1

Be Careful What You Wish For

(TG Story)

By FemmeForgie

Mark just wanted to do his best friend a solid. Dave was a great guy—loyal, funny, but painfully awkward and still a virgin at 25. So when Mark stumbled on a dusty old lamp and a genie popped out, he figured, why not use some magic to finally get Dave laid? His wish was simple: a sexy, caring, absolutely smoking hot woman to rock Dave’s world. But the genie had other plans. Instead of summoning the perfect woman, the bastard turned Mark into her—a curvy, drop-dead gorgeous bombshell with tits, hips, and a body built for sin. Now, stuck in this insanely hot female form, Mark realizes there's only one way to make the wish come true: he has to be the one to fuck his best friend. And the more he thinks about it… the more his new body wants to.

Link for the PDF File: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1IIhtakmpxsDMT4QrCZtkRmk6hRySaMC4/view?usp=drive_link

Chapter 1

Mark and Dave were chilling in their usual spot, surrounded by empty soda cans, half-eaten bags of chips, and a TV paused on some random video game they’d been meaning to finish. As always, they were deep in one of their nerdy debates—whether Batman could actually take down a god-tier villain with enough prep time, why every time-travel movie somehow messed up its own logic, or how old-school RPGs just hit different compared to the flashy modern stuff. Their conversation bounced back and forth, full of exaggerated hand gestures, bad impressions of movie characters, and the occasional deep sigh over the state of their favorite franchises. It was just their thing, a routine so ingrained that they barely even thought about it anymore—just two nerds, talking nerd shit, like they always did.

Dave was, by most people’s standards, a loser. A complete social recluse, the kind of guy who blended into the background so seamlessly that most people barely noticed he was there at all. He wasn’t popular, he wasn’t charismatic, and he definitely wasn’t the type to strike up conversations with strangers or put himself out there in any meaningful way. Social interactions—at least the ones that required effort—felt like an uphill battle he had no interest in fighting. Small talk was excruciating, meeting new people was a nightmare, and the idea of trying to fit in with a group that didn’t instinctively welcome him was something he had long since decided wasn’t worth the trouble. It wasn’t that he actively hated people—he just never quite understood them, and they, in turn, never seemed to understand him.

If it weren’t for Mark, he probably wouldn’t have had a single friend in the world.

Mark had been there since childhood, back when making friends wasn’t a choice so much as a byproduct of proximity—sitting next to each other in class, getting paired up for group projects, or just being two kids left out of the more popular circles. At first, their friendship had been based on nothing more than circumstance, a casual arrangement of convenience rather than any deep connection. But as the years passed, and other friendships faded into the background, Mark remained. When other kids outgrew their childhood bonds, moving on to new social circles and new interests, Mark never seemed to feel the need to abandon Dave the way so many others had.

Their friendship wasn’t dramatic or sentimental—it wasn’t built on heartfelt confessions or some profound emotional connection. It was simple, effortless, and rooted in a mutual understanding that neither of them really fit in anywhere else. They had spent their childhoods together, first as kids playing video games and getting into dumb arguments over cartoons, then as awkward teenagers marathoning sci-fi shows and debating comic book lore like their lives depended on it. They shared the same interests, the same humor, the same instinct to roll their eyes at the ridiculous social expectations that had never made much sense to either of them.

While other people filled their weekends with parties, dates, and group outings, Dave and Mark were perfectly content to just exist in their own little bubble—lounging around in Mark’s basement, controllers in hand, arguing over which version of a franchise had the best storyline or why a certain superhero would absolutely, without question, obliterate another in a fight. It was a pattern they had fallen into without even thinking about it, a familiar routine that felt like second nature.

Dave never had to explain himself to Mark. He never had to put on a front, never had to pretend to be more interesting or outgoing than he was. With Mark, he could just be himself—socially awkward, quiet, more comfortable in front of a screen than in a room full of people.

And for someone like Dave, who had never really belonged anywhere else, that was enough.

Dave was as average-looking as they came—so unremarkable that if you passed him on the street, you probably wouldn’t remember his face five minutes later. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t particularly handsome either, just one of those guys who seemed to blend into the background no matter where he went. He had a lanky, almost fragile build, the kind of frame that suggested he had never set foot in a gym and probably never would. His arms were thin, his shoulders narrow, and his posture slightly slouched, as if he had spent most of his life hunched over a keyboard or buried in a book.

His dark brown hair was perpetually messy, not in a cool, effortless way, but in a ‘rolled out of bed and didn’t bother to fix it’ kind of way. His glasses—thick-rimmed, slightly outdated—perched on the bridge of his nose, constantly slipping down and needing to be pushed back up with an absentminded nudge of his finger. He always had a faint air of distraction about him, as if he was only half paying attention to the real world and the other half of his brain was stuck in some fictional universe, debating plot holes or overanalyzing a video game’s mechanics.

His wardrobe only added to the nerd stereotype—graphic T-shirts featuring obscure references to old cartoons, slightly oversized hoodies that swallowed his frame, and a pair of worn-out sneakers that had seen better days. He wasn’t the type to care much about fashion; as long as his clothes were comfortable and functional, that was good enough for him.

Everything about Dave screamed ‘nerd’ in the most stereotypical way possible. He wasn’t trying to make a statement with his look—he had just never put much thought into changing it. And honestly, why would he? It wasn’t like he was trying to impress anyone.

Dave was basically the total opposite of Mark in every way. Where Dave was a skinny, nerdy twig with no muscle to speak of, Mark actually gave a shit about how he looked. Dude was tall, built like a damn athlete, with broad shoulders, a tight waist, and a body that looked like it was made to be shown off. His pecs were solid, his abs were straight-up defined as hell, and he had those strong arms that made it clear he spent plenty of time in the gym. But the thing was—Mark wasn’t even the kind of guy who tried too hard. He just looked good without making a big deal about it.

And girls noticed.

It wasn’t just his body—though, let’s be real, that was a big part of it—it was the way he carried himself. Confident, but not in an obnoxious way. His dark hair was always just messy enough to look effortlessly cool, like he rolled out of bed perfect. He had that natural swagger, that easy charm that made people pay attention without him having to say a word. And then there was the rumor.

Because yeah, everyone had heard it.

Apparently, Mark was fucking hung.

Like, really hung. Girls whispered about it, some of them giggling, some of them way too eager to confirm. ‘Fat cock’ was the exact phrase a few had used, and while no one had ever gotten him to actually say anything about it, he sure as hell never denied it. Just smirked, shrugged, and let people think whatever they wanted—which, of course, only made the rumors spread even more.

Compared to him, Dave felt like a half-starved goblin standing next to a goddamn supermodel. He wasn’t ripped, he wasn’t smooth, and he definitely wasn’t rumored to be carrying a monster dick. But the weird part? Mark never made him feel like less. Never acted like he was better than him, never gave him shit for looking like a stick figure in a hoodie.

And somehow, despite being absolute opposites, they were still best friends.

Mark and Dave eventually drifted into their usual nerd talk, bouncing from one random topic to another—arguing over which Star Wars trilogy was the best, debating whether Goku could actually beat Superman, and ranking the hottest video game characters with way too much detail. It was the same kind of dumb, comfortable back-and-forth they always had, the kind that could stretch on for hours without them even realizing it.

But then, somehow, the conversation shifted.

Mark, without thinking much of it, brought up their university life—how classes were going, the professors they hated, the usual grind. But the moment the topic changed, Dave immediately clammed up. His responses got shorter, his enthusiasm died down, and he suddenly seemed way more interested in fiddling with the loose thread on his hoodie than actually talking.

Mark noticed.

“Dude, what’s up? You good?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dave shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, it’s whatever.”

Mark leaned back, crossing his arms. “You sure? You usually don’t shut the hell up when we’re arguing over dumb shit, but the second I bring up college, you go all quiet.”

Dave sighed, still not looking at him. “It’s just… I dunno, man. I don’t really have anything to say about it.”

And that was the truth. While Mark was out there actually living his life, making friends, and somehow balancing his studies with his social life, Dave… wasn’t. He kept his head down, went to class, did his assignments, and then went home. No clubs, no parties, no new connections. Just another place where he existed, but never really fit.

He didn’t want to talk about it. Not with Mark. Not with anyone.

But Mark wasn’t having any of that vague, dismissive bullshit. He could tell when Dave was dodging a subject, and he wasn’t about to let it slide.

“Nah, man, don’t give me that ‘it’s whatever’ crap,” Mark said, leaning forward with a smirk. “Come on, tell me—made any new friends? Found yourself a little nerd crew to hang with?”

Dave shifted uncomfortably, already regretting not changing the subject sooner. “Not really,” he muttered, eyes glued to the floor.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’ve been in university for months now. You seriously haven’t made a single new friend?”

Dave shrugged. “Didn’t see the need.”

Mark groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Jesus Christ, Dave. You gotta put yourself out there, man. College is the perfect place for a fresh start! There are literally thousands of people—you’re telling me not one of them is worth talking to?”

Dave mumbled something unintelligible, but Mark wasn’t about to let it go.

“Alright, fine. Forget friends—what about girls?” Mark’s grin turned wolfish, his eyebrows waggling. “Met any cute chicks? Maybe a hot nerd girl who’s into the same weird shit as you? Or, hell, even just a random hookup? Don’t tell me you’ve been surrounded by college girls for months and you still haven’t gotten any action.”

Dave’s entire body tensed, his face heating up instantly. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. “Dude, I don’t—”

“Oh my God.” Mark’s eyes widened in exaggerated horror. “You’re telling me nothing? No flirting? No numbers? Not even an awkward ‘hey, wanna study together’ situation?”

Dave felt his stomach twist. He knew Mark wasn’t trying to be a dick—he was just being Mark, always pushing, always trying to get him to loosen up. But that didn’t make it any easier to sit through.

“I just don’t care about that stuff, alright?” Dave snapped, finally looking up.

Mark blinked, caught off guard for a second. But then, his smirk returned, teasing but not cruel. “Dude. That is the saddest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Dave groaned, running a hand through his hair. He really wished Mark would drop it. But knowing Mark? He wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

Mark leaned back with a smug grin, clearly enjoying himself way too much. If Dave wasn’t gonna give him anything juicy, then fine—he’d just take over the conversation and make it as obnoxious as possible.

“Dude, I cannot believe you’re wasting college like this,” Mark said, shaking his head dramatically. “You realize this is, like, prime time for you to actually get some experience, right? I mean, bro, the amount of hot chicks I’ve seen on campus? It’s like stepping into a goddamn paradise. I don’t even know where they were hiding back in high school, but the second you step into a university, bam—they’re everywhere.”

Dave sighed, already regretting not changing the subject sooner. “Mark—”

“No, shut up, listen,” Mark said, grinning like he was about to drop the most important knowledge of Dave’s life. “So there’s this insanely hot redhead in my econ class, right? Bro, I’m talking next-level thick—like, ass for days, thighs that could crush a guy’s head, and the kind of walk that makes you think she knows exactly what she’s doing. And you know what? She totally does. Always playing with her hair, throwing these little glances—it’s dangerous, man.”

Dave rubbed his temple. “Jesus, here we go…”

“But bro, she’s nothing compared to this girl I hooked up with last month,” Mark continued, completely ignoring Dave’s lack of enthusiasm. His eyes lit up like he was about to tell the greatest story ever told. “Dude. I swear to God, actual goddess-tier. Brunette, big tits, and a waist so small I could probably wrap both hands around it. And the best part? Flexible.” He let out a low whistle, shaking his head like he was still recovering from the experience. “Like, I didn’t even know a girl’s legs could bend that way. I mean, bro, I was sitting there, thinking, ‘Is this even legal?’”

Dave slumped further into the couch, staring at the ceiling like he was begging some higher power to strike him down. “Are you seriously giving me a full play-by-play of your sex life?”

Mark smirked, waggling his eyebrows. “I would, but I don’t think your poor little virgin brain could handle it.”

“Oh my God, you’re insufferable.”

Mark just laughed, stretching his arms behind his head like he was the king of the world. “Nah, I’m just trying to help you, man. I mean, it’s actually painful watching you waste your potential like this. There’s so much prime ass on campus, and what are you doing? Jack shit.” He threw his hands up. “What a goddamn tragedy.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Not everyone is a walking thirst machine like you, Mark.”

Mark grinned. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta be, and trust me, I deliver.” He leaned in, smirking. “Honestly, bro? You should at least try to get some action before you graduate. You know, before your dick starts mummifying from lack of use.”

Dave groaned. “Oh my God.”

Mark just cackled, clearly having way too much fun. “What? I’m just saying, it’s a real possibility. You gotta oil the machine once in a while, you know?”

Dave buried his face in his hands. This was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon.

Mark squinted at Dave, smirking like he was about to unravel some great mystery. “Alright, real talk—why the hell are you still a virgin?”

Dave immediately tensed, his body stiffening like he’d just been slapped. “Dude, what the hell kind of question is that?”

“It’s a simple one,” Mark said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re in college, surrounded by girls, and yet you’re still out here living that dry-ass life. So what’s the deal? Are you, like, waiting for marriage or something? Got some weird kinks you’re too scared to admit? Or do you just straight-up suck at talking to women?”

Dave’s mouth opened, then closed. He felt his face heat up as his brain scrambled for a response—something casual, something dismissive that would get Mark off his back. But nothing came. Because the truth was, this wasn’t something he liked thinking about, much less talking about. It was just… there. A fact about himself that he tried not to dwell on, because every time he did, it made him feel like absolute shit.

Mark was still watching him, waiting for an answer.

“Look, I just… I don’t know, man,” Dave muttered, rubbing his hands together. “I guess I never really got around to it.”

Mark snorted. “Yeah, no shit. But why?”

Dave shifted in his seat, feeling a tight, uncomfortable knot form in his stomach. “Because I can’t, alright?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.

Mark’s smirk faltered for the first time. He frowned slightly. “What do you mean you ‘can’t’?”

Dave exhaled heavily, his fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it out loud—if he wanted to actually admit it. But after all these years of pretending it didn’t bother him, of brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal, something inside him cracked.

“I mean, I don’t know how to talk to girls like that, Mark,” he said, staring at the floor. “I see a hot girl, and my brain just shuts down. I don’t have your confidence, I don’t have your charm, I don’t even have the balls to try. I just freeze. And even if I did work up the nerve, what the hell would I even say? ‘Hey, I’m Dave, I have zero experience with women, but do you wanna be the first?’ Like, that’s not exactly a selling point.”

Mark tilted his head. “Dude, nobody starts with experience. You just gotta go for it.”

Dave let out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah? And how, exactly? What, I just walk up to a random girl, strike up a conversation, and magically charm her into bed? That shit doesn’t work for guys like me.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Bro, you’re acting like you’re some hideous swamp goblin. You’re a normal-looking dude, you just need to put yourself out there.”

Dave clenched his jaw. “It’s not that simple for me. It never has been.”

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t just about getting laid like Mark made it sound. Dave wasn’t stupid—he knew he could probably hook up with someone if he really tried. Some drunk girl at a party, some random fling with a chick who was just looking for a warm body for the night. That wasn’t impossible.

But that wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted something more. Something real.

He wanted a girl who actually liked him—not just tolerated him, not just someone who thought he was a ‘nice guy’ in a patronizing way. He wanted a girl who looked at him the way guys like Mark got looked at—like he was wanted, like he was desirable. He wanted a girl who actually gave a shit about him, who chose him over everyone else.

And deep down, he knew that was never going to happen.

Because guys like him didn’t get girls like that.

Guys like Mark did.

That thought sat in his chest like a goddamn brick, making him feel pathetic for even thinking about it.

Mark studied him for a moment, and Dave expected him to make some dumb joke or brush it off. He half-expected him to just laugh and tell him to stop being such a dramatic little bitch. But instead, Mark just sighed, shaking his head.

“Man, you’re way too in your own head about this,” he said.

Dave forced a weak laugh. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Mark leaned back, staring at him for a second. “Look, dude… I get that it’s not easy for you. But you can’t just give up on this shit. You’re not some freak, alright? You just need to stop thinking so much and just… do something.”

Dave scoffed. “Easy for you to say. You walk into a room and girls throw themselves at you. Meanwhile, I can barely make eye contact with one without feeling like a total loser.”

Mark sighed again. “Dude, that’s the problem. You act like girls are some impossible, god-tier creatures that you have to impress. They’re just people. Talk to them like normal, and half the battle’s already won.”

Dave shook his head. “You really don’t get it.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Mark shot back. “You keep telling yourself you’re not good enough, and that’s exactly why you’re stuck in the same place. You gotta stop waiting for some perfect dream girl to show up and magically fix your shit. That’s never gonna happen. You want something real? You gotta go find it.”

Dave swallowed hard, looking away. He knew Mark was trying to help, in his own blunt, dickish way. But it didn’t change the way he felt.

Because at the end of the day, Mark could give all the advice in the world—but Mark had never been the guy who went unnoticed. Mark had never been the one left on the sidelines.

And that was the difference between them.

Dave sat there, staring at the floor, feeling the weight of Mark’s words pressing down on him like a boulder. Find it? Yeah, right. Like it was that simple. Like all he had to do was put himself out there, say a few words, and suddenly, women would just fall into his lap.

That was easy for Mark to say.

Mark, who had everything—confidence, looks, charm, and the body of a damn athlete. He was the kind of guy who could walk into a room and instantly have people’s attention without even trying. And, of course, there was that one thing that Dave had heard about more times than he could count, the one thing that seemed to follow Mark like some kind of legendary status.

His dick.

Dave clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought away, but it was like a parasite, wriggling deeper into his brain. He’d never given a single damn about another guy’s junk before, but God, he couldn’t not think about it when every damn girl around him seemed to.

It was everywhere—giggling, hushed whispers, teasing voices dripping with that tone that made it clear they weren’t just joking around.

"Oh my God, have you seen Mark in those jeans? You can see it."

"I swear to God, it’s huge. Like, porn-star huge. Tiffany told me she could barely take it."

"There’s no way. Like, actually big? Or just big-big?"

"No, like—big big. Thick, too. I heard from Sarah that he’s got that perfect curve, and when he pulls it out, girls just melt."

"Jesus. That man is a walking thirst trap."

"You know he’s got the dick game to back it up, too."

Dave had never wanted to hear any of it, but once you caught wind of something like that, it was impossible to unhear it. He’d walk past groups of girls, not even trying to eavesdrop, and there it was—Mark’s name, followed by some ridiculous statement about his ‘legendary’ dick. It had reached the point where even dudes knew about it. Whether they admitted it or not, every guy who knew Mark was aware of the rumors, and most of them, Dave included, assumed it had to be true. Because Mark never denied it.

That was the worst part.

He never outright confirmed anything, but he never shot it down either. He just played it cool, smirked, shrugged, and let the rumors run wild. And that only made girls more obsessed.

And Dave?

Dave was the guy standing in the corner, invisible, completely removed from that world.

No girl had ever whispered about him like that. No girl had ever leaned into her friend, giggling about how she needed to get a taste of what he was working with.

Because no girl had ever been interested enough to find out.

Mark lived in a world where sex wasn’t just a possibility—it was a guarantee. A normal part of life, like eating or sleeping. Women wanted him. Women craved him. Hell, even the ones he didn’t actively chase after seemed to fall for him anyway.

Dave lived in a completely different world.

A world where women barely acknowledged his existence. A world where no girl had ever looked at him with want in her eyes, where he had never been the subject of some excited, giggly conversation between friends.

A world where no one had ever needed him the way women seemed to need Mark.

And deep down, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, push it away, tell himself it didn’t matter—

That hurt.

Dave slouched deeper into the couch, staring at the floor, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Go find it? Yeah, fucking right. Like getting a girl was as easy as just deciding to. Like if he walked up to some hot chick and said, “Hey, I exist,” she’d magically wanna spread her legs for him.

That was easy for Mark to say.

Mark, who had everything. The confidence, the swagger, the kind of body that made girls bite their lips and do a double take. He was ripped, he was smooth, and he didn’t even have to try to get attention. He could walk into a room, flash that cocky grin, and girls would throw themselves at him.

And, of course, there was one thing that really set him apart. The thing every fucking girl on campus seemed to whisper about.

His dick.

Dave grit his teeth, trying not to think about it, but fuck, how could he not? He’d heard about it so many times it was practically urban legend at this point. Girls talked about it. Not just one or two, but tons of them. Giggling in hallways, gossiping at parties, whispering to each other like they were swapping notes on some kind of forbidden treasure.

"Oh my God, have you ever seen him in sweatpants? It’s just... there."

"I hooked up with him last semester, and girl—he’s fucking huge."

"No way, you’re bullshitting."

"Swear to God. Not just long, either, but thick. Like, perfect thick."

"Jesus. No wonder every girl wants to fuck him."

"I’d climb that man like a fucking tree."

"Bitch, same."

And the worst part? Mark fucking knew about it. He loved that shit. He never outright said anything, never bragged about it, but he didn’t have to. The way he smirked whenever someone brought it up, the way he’d just shrug like, Welp, guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself—that only made girls more obsessed.

And Dave?

Dave was the guy in the corner. The guy nobody looked at. The guy no girl had ever whispered about.

No one had ever turned to their friend, giggling, saying, Oh my God, I heard Dave is packing or I bet he fucks like a beast in bed. Hell, no girl had ever wondered about him, period. Because they didn’t care.

Mark lived in a world where getting pussy wasn’t just possible—it was fucking inevitable. Girls wanted him. They needed him. They thought about him, fantasized about him, talked about him when he wasn’t even around.

Dave lived in a world where he might as well have been invisible. Where no girl had ever given him a second glance. Where he’d never once caught a woman staring at his body with hunger in her eyes.

Because guys like Mark got wanted.

And guys like Dave?

Guys like Dave just existed.

Damn, Mark even had an eight-pack. Not just a six-pack—eight. Like his body was personally sculpted by the gods just to piss off every average guy around him. His abs were ridiculous, the kind of thing you’d see on a fitness model, not some college dude who barely even seemed to try. And his pecs? Solid as hell. Big, firm, the kind of chest that made girls want to run their hands over it just for the hell of it.

Mark wasn’t just fit, he was fucking built.

Like, the dude took his shirt off at the beach, and you could feel the shift in the air. Girls’ heads would snap in his direction, some pretending not to look, others straight-up ogling like they were ready to risk it all. Meanwhile, Dave? Dave kept his damn T-shirt on because he wasn’t about to humiliate himself standing next to that.

And of course, on top of all of that, there was the other thing. The one thing that made all of Mark’s physical perfection even worse.

The fact that every girl knew he was packing.

Not just rumors—straight-up testimonies. Dave had overheard way too many conversations he never wanted to be part of.

"Tiffany told me it’s fucking massive."

"Like, how massive?"

"Like, she had to take a break massive."

"Holy shit."

"I know, right? And you know a body like that knows how to use it."

"Ugh, fuck, I’d let him ruin my life."

And Mark? That cocky bastard? He’d just smirk whenever it got brought up, never confirming, never denying, just letting the rumors spread like wildfire. Like he wanted people to wonder.

And Dave?

Dave wasn’t even in the same goddamn league.

Mark stretched, letting out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his already-perfect hair. "Man, I need to get laid," he groaned, like it was some basic necessity, like food or water.

Dave shot him a look. "You literally just told me you hooked up with someone last month."

"Yeah, and?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "That was last month, bro. Do you eat one meal and just never eat again?"

Dave rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, totally the same thing."

"I'm serious, man," Mark continued, ignoring the sarcasm. "I’ve been busy with classes, training, and all that shit—I haven't had the time to go out and just... handle business, you know?" He cracked his knuckles, grinning. "And you know how it is—when you don’t fuck for a while, you just start feeling all pent up."

Dave made a face. "No, I don’t know how it is, Mark."

Mark smirked. "Yeah, that's kinda the problem, isn't it?"

Dave groaned, throwing his head back. "Jesus Christ, here we go again—"

"Nah, listen," Mark cut in, grinning like an asshole. "I need some action. Like, bad. And lucky for me, campus is filled with options." He leaned back, arms spread across the couch. "Now I just gotta pick which one I wanna bless with my time."

Dave snorted. "Wow, so humble."

Mark grinned. "Hey, I’m just saying—I know what I bring to the table. Girls love this shit." He patted his abs, smirking. "And when they find out about everything else?" He whistled. "Game over."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

Mark shrugged. "Facts, bro. Now, question is—do I go for something casual, or do I put in the effort for something more?"

Dave scoffed. "Since when do you do effort?"

"Fair point," Mark admitted, stretching again. "But hey, maybe I should. Maybe it's time to find a girl-girl, you know? Someone who actually gets me. Someone I can have fun with and not just as a one-night thing."

Dave raised an eyebrow. "You? Looking for something serious?"

Mark shrugged. "Hey, anything’s possible."

Dave stared at him for a moment. "You're full of shit."

Mark laughed. "Yeah, okay, maybe. But one thing’s for sure—I’m not spending another week walking around this campus without getting my dick wet. That’s just irresponsible."

Dave groaned. "Please stop talking."

Mark smirked, shaking his head as he looked at Dave like he was some tragic case that needed fixing. “Man, you really need to lose your virginity.”

Dave groaned, already knowing where this was going. “Jesus, dude, can we not?”

“No, we can,” Mark shot back, sitting up and pointing at him. “Because this is a problem. You’re a grown-ass man, and you’re still out here walking around with zero experience. You need to get laid.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Wow, what a groundbreaking revelation, Mark.”

Mark leaned back, crossing his arms. “I’m serious, man. It’s college. This is your prime time. You really wanna graduate without ever knowing what it’s like? Without ever feeling a girl’s lips on you, her body pressed up against you, moaning your name while you—”

“Alright, I get it,” Dave cut in, his face heating up. “Fucking hell, man, tone it down.”

Mark grinned. “Nah, dude, you need this talk. You make it sound like finding a girl is some impossible quest when, honestly, it just comes down to knowing what you want and going after it.”

Dave scoffed. “Oh yeah? And what if I don’t know what I want?”

Mark shot him an incredulous look. “Bullshit. You definitely know. You just don’t wanna say it out loud.”

Dave hesitated, his fingers absentmindedly picking at the fabric of his hoodie.

“Okay, let’s break it down,” Mark continued, turning to face him fully. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you could hook up with any girl you wanted. Doesn’t matter if she’s real or not, doesn’t matter if she’d actually go for you or not. Just pure fantasy. I just wanna know—what’s your type?”

Dave blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Uh… I don’t know.”

Mark groaned. “Dude, come on. Don’t give me that. Think about it. What kind of girl gets you going? What kind of girl would make you say ‘yes, absolutely, I would destroy that’?”

Dave swallowed, his face already burning as his mind started piecing together the image. He had never really said it out loud before—never put actual words to the kind of girl he secretly fantasized about. But now that Mark was pressing him, forcing him to think about it, the answer was right there, clear as day.

“…I guess…” Dave started slowly, shifting uncomfortably, “I’d want a girl who’s… really submissive.”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up, his grin widening. “Oh? Now we’re talking.”

Dave exhaled, feeling his stomach tighten, but fuck it—Mark had asked. “Yeah. Like, I’d want her to always be eager to please me, you know? Just… completely devoted to me, always craving sex, always wanting me. Not just once in a while, but all the time. Like, no matter when, no matter what, she’d just need it.”

Mark let out a low whistle. “Damn. My boy’s got a freaky side after all.”

Dave shifted in his seat. “Shut up.”

“Nah, dude, that’s interesting,” Mark said, smirking. “So you don’t just want sex, you want a girl who’s, like, obsessed with your dick. Like, desperate for it.”

Dave swallowed, nodding. “…Yeah.”

Mark chuckled. “Man, that’s wild. I didn’t think you had that in you.” He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “So basically, you want some kind of perfect, insatiable little sex kitten who’s just aching for you to use her, huh?”

Dave felt his face burn. “Dude, don’t put it like that.”

Mark just laughed. “Hey, no judgment, bro. I respect it. And honestly? Maybe that’s exactly what you need. Someone who’ll just break down all those nerves and force you to stop overthinking everything.”

Dave let out a nervous chuckle, but deep down, the thought stuck with him.

Because, fuck… maybe Mark was right. Maybe he did need a girl like that. Not just someone who would let him take control, but someone who wanted him to, who needed him to. A girl who would always be there, aching for him, desperate to make him feel good.

A girl who would never get tired of him.

A girl who would never leave.

He exhaled, shaking the thought from his head before it went too far. “Yeah, well… not like a girl like that would ever go for me.”

Mark smirked. “See, that’s the problem. You keep thinking like that, and you’re gonna stay a virgin forever.” He stretched, cracking his knuckles. “But hey, you never know. The universe works in weird ways.”

Dave scoffed. “Yeah, sure. What, is a genie gonna pop out of nowhere and grant me the perfect sex-obsessed girlfriend?”

Mark just laughed. “Bro, if only.”

To be continued...