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Couch SYnc

Disclaimer: Chapter One was found through other sources.  The original link is here: 

 

I do not claim it as my own writing, and have not found the original writer to give credit. If the original writer finds this I would love to give them the credit for this wacky little story. 

Chapter Two was a continuation I wrote for the fans clamoring for a part 2 to this story. Enjoy the madness.

Chapter One

 

Lance figured he had turned into a couch sometime during the night. He didn't know how, but he was pretty sure it was Joey's fault. He was at Joey's house after all, in Joey's den, where he had passed out in front of Joey's television.

The last thing he remembered about the night before was Joey saying, "No man, it smells fine. Just eat it."

Lance would have sighed if he weren't a couch.

"Hey, Lance, you want breakfast?" Joey asked from the hall. He poked his head into the room when Lance didn't answer. "Lance? You in here?"

He watched Joey enter the room, and then tried not to think about how he could be watching Joey enter the room since he was a couch and couches were generally not known for their ability to watch things.

"Guess he left," Joey mumbled to himself.

Joey yawned so wide his jaw popped, and then he looked down at Lance in his newly upholstered form for the first time. "Kelly bought another fucking couch?" Joey wondered aloud. "What was wrong with the last one? I liked the last one."

'You might like me too.' Thought Lance. He realized it was an incredibly inane thought since he wasn't really a couch, but still. Joey hadn't even sat on him yet and he was already complaining. 'Just sit on me.' Lance thought. 'Sit. Sit. Sit!'

"Doesn't even live here," Joey muttered, turning his back to Lance. "Shouldn't be messing with my furniture."

 

'Sit!' thought Lance. 'Siiiiiiiiit!' Joey flopped down on top of him and Lance concentrated on being as comfortable as possible.

 

"Not bad," mumbled Joey. "Not bad at all."

 

Lance was brimming with pride. Joey thought he was comfortable. It was like he was filling his purpose in life. He felt useful and needed.

 

"So tired," Joey sighed.

 

'You should take a nap.' Thought Lance. 'Lie down and go to sleep Joey.'

 

Lance felt almost giddy when Joey slid down onto him and rested his head against his armrest.

 

"Wish you would have stayed for breakfast man," Joey muttered, half asleep. "Was gonna make waffles."

 

Lance tried to hug Joey, and was sad when he couldn't.

Chapter Two

As Joey dozed off Lance couldn’t help but feel comforted by the weight of Joey’s body laying on top of him. Before he was a couch he would’ve loved to feel the weight of his body on top of him, but this was crazy. Joey was married, he was straight, and Lance had turned into a couch. All Lance could do was think, and the more he thought about his situation, the more he realized that maybe he could do something. 

Joey was on top of  him, even if Lance couldn’t move, which ideally is how the scenario would play out anyway. Joey’s soft, Italian body shifted on top of Lance’s cushions, and Lance wondered what body part Joey was laying on. Was he like that chair from Pee Wee’s Playhouse? If only Joey would slip his cock in between Lance’s cushions. Maybe it would accidentally fall out of his shorts. He was called the Italian Stallion for a reason. With all his might Lance squeezed his cushions as hard as he could. It took so much concentration he felt like he was a Jedi. Trying to channel the force to obtain Joey’s package. Just then he felt something. Lance couldn’t believe it. It felt like skin, he had so much trouble seeing since he was a couch and had no eyes, but he was starting to feel around. Joe, still snoring, was oblivious to what was happening underneath him. Lance had separated his cushions just enough and somehow was able to slide Joey’s package in between them, tucking it away so nice and cozy. 

Lance threw caution to the wind and wriggled his cushions against his member. Lance didn’t know whether it was his mouth or his asshole that Joey was in, but it felt so incredible he didn’t want to get into the semantics of couch anatomy. Pretty soon, Lance was able to not focus his mind so much, and just let it flow. 

Joey, still somehow asleep, started to moan and grunt softly. Lance was afraid he would wake up, and then wonder why his package was stuck in a couch. If he kept him asleep somehow, Joey wouldn’t get the chance to freak out. When he awoke he would see it as nothing more than a wet dream. 

Lance clamped down harder on his manhood and rubbed his cushions against it with all his might, his brain working overtime. Lance wanted to cum, but how? How, as a couch, would he be able to cum? “Who cares,” Lance thought, and kept his cushions going faster and faster, and then the cushions exploded off the couch sending Joey with them, flying across the room.

Joey abruptly woke up, freaking out. “WHAT THE HELL?” he said to himself. He looked around and saw no one. He grabbed the couch cushions and had no idea what had just happened. He looked down and saw his cock out, hard and ready to go. “Jesus!” he said stuffing it back into his shorts. He took the cushions and put them back on the couch and stared at it for a second. There was something about this couch that looked so familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Joey was freaked out and left the room, “I am getting the fuck out of here. I’m not dealing with a haunted couch. KELLY!” he screamed leaving the room. After a few minutes of silence Lance woke up. He was back in his body, and laying on top of the couch. 

“Was it all a dream?” Lance said to himself. He looked at the couch, and was tempted to stick his hand between the cushions, but didn’t. Lance got up and left the room to look for Joey.

As Lance left the room Joey tried to call after him, but couldn’t, seeing as how he was a couch. He didn’t know when it happened, but figured it was all Lance’s fault.

THE END

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