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  1. Positive Reinforcement (CH 1) A/N: Just a cute and short little thing I wrote this morning before getting out of bed. "Shit!" Ronan found himself startled awake by the loud exclamation beside him. His body moved on instinct as he kicked away the sheets and shot out of bed. His eyes darted over to the source of the cry, his boyfriend Austin. "What's wrong?!" He demanded, looking around for some unknown assailant. But they were alone. "What happened?!" Austin's head was bent forward, staring down at himself in disbelief. Ronan's eyes followed his gaze only to see a large dark patch covering the front of his grey sweatpants. "Austin? What happened? Are you okay?" He asked, voice full of concern. "I think..." Austin trailed off. "I think I just pissed the bed?" He said confused beyond measure. Ronan watched him run a hand over the wet patch and sniff his fingers before flinching. "Fuck. Yeah...Why the hell did that happen?" He asked rhetorically, more in disbelief than anything else. "Hmph," Ronan huffed. "I have no clue. But-" He cut himself off with a yawn. "Go rinse off while I change the sheets. It's like 3am." It didn't take long for Ronan to change the sheets as, luckily, the wetness hasn't had time to soak into the mattress yet. The sheets were due for a wash anyway, he told himself after starting the washer. The second set came down from the closet in time for Austin to help him remake the bed. And soon enough they were both back to sleep. Ronan pulled Austin close to him as they both drifted off, peppering kisses along his shoulder and the back of his neck. If their roles were reversed, he'd feel pretty embarrassed. But from his position, it was just one accident. Austin was probably beating himself up for it already. No need to make it worse. Ronan didn't even bring it up the next day. --- Until it happened again that night. Austin had tears in his eyes as he shook Ronan awake. Ronan, of course, grumbled the entire time. "What?" He asked, brow furrowing as he saw Austin's distress again. "We- we gotta change the sheets," Austin's voice cracked. "Again." Ronan gave a heavy sigh but hopped out of bed and shooed Austin off to shower while he changed the sheets again. Like before, he made sure to pull Austin in for a cuddle as they both climbed back into bed. "I'm so sorry, Row," Austin whispered, as if talking normally would break whatever spell Ronan was under to make him so calm. "I don't know why this is happening." "We'll figure something out, Sweetheart. Don't worry," Ronan kissed his blushing skin. --- It happened again the next night. Only, Ronan was late to the game as Austin had made a pallet on the floor "just in case". It was only after hearing Austin's sniffling cries as he dug out more sleep clothes from their dresser that he work up. "Ausie?" Ronan called out. "Did it happen again?" "Y-yeah," Austin's sad voice came. "Let me get the washer going-" "I did already." Ronan paused, "And you showered?" "Yeah..." Ronan nodded. "Then come here, Sweetheart." He said and opened his arms. "Are you sure you want me in the bed? What if...?" Austin trailed off with a wobbling voice. "None of that," Ronan tried to be reassuring. "The odds of a other accident are slim. And even if you did have another accident, I don't care. I'm not letting you sleep on the floor with no blankets." "...Okay," Austin hesitantly climbed up on the bed and laid rigidly beside Ronan. It took more cuddles and kisses before he relaxed, but soon enough they were both asleep. --- It didn't have to happen again before Ronan found a solution the next day. He was out doing their usual grocery shopping and just had the idea to check near the baby aisle to see if there was anything to lessen bedwetting. There were large pads that wouldn't help the laundry problem, there were adult briefs that emphasized "leak protection", and there were teen pull-ups. Granted, Austin was a little smaller of a guy. His weight was just slightly off the range the pull-ups advertised, but Ronan grabbed a pack anyway. Of course, there was a pack that looked like "regular" undies, but Ronan couldn't help but grab the super hero themed ones instead. It's not as if Austin would know of his choice. Ronan told himself the entire way home that it wasn't making fun of Austin's accidents. It was making fun OUT OF Austin's accidents. Making lemonade out of lemons. Seeing the bright side of a shady situation. That was all. Of course, he had to backpedal quite a bit when he asked Austin if they could talk when they got home. Austin looked seconds away from crying as his face paled. "Y-you...you want to leave me...don't you?" "Oh! Nononono!" Ronan quickly responded, dropping the shopping bag to the floor and rushing over to give Austin a hug. "Not at all, Darling! I swear!" Austin gave into his tears and Ronan soothed him through them. Only when he was sure Austin was okay did he finally pull away and bring a damp cloth from the kitchen to wipe his tear-stained face. "I didn't mean to scare you, baby," Ronan soothed. "I wouldn't leave you just because of some accidents." "I thought...you got sick of me..." Austin admitted softly. "Never," Ronan pushed as much truth as he could into the words. "I just wanted to say I might have found a possible solution..." "Oh?" --- Austin gave a hesitant look as he was holding the pull-ups, but agreed to try them for a few night in case the problem persisted. That night, Ronan sat on the edge of the bed as Austin got changed. He watched him pull the pull-up up his legs and slide it into place. All in all, they fit pretty well. A little tugging and adjusting, but in the end they looked fine. Cute even, Ronan thought to himself. "How does it feel?" Ronan asked, watching as Austin stood in front of the mirror to inspect himself. "A little tight, but not bad," He answered honestly. "How does it look?" "Actually kind of cute," Ronan chuckled, watching Austin's eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" Ronan nodded, reaching out for Austin to come closer. When he did, Ronan patted him on his padded behind. It wasn't much padding at all, he noticed. "Hopefully they won't leak." "Um...we could...uh," Austin stumbled over his own words, face heating up in a blush. "We could..." Ronan encouraged with another playful pat. "We could poke a hole and... put another on top?" It was a smart idea. And when they did so the padding looked more suitable for a grown man's wetting. Ronan held hope they wouldn't have to change the sheets tonight. --- The pull-ups worked well. Neither one was woken up by the bed getting wet, and were able to sleep through the whole night. Ronan stretched and let out a pleasant groan before watching Austin do the same. "How'd your pull-up work out?" He asked as if he didn't already know. But it was cute, he realized, to watch Austin pull down the front of his pajama pants to expose his well used and swelled up pull-up. "Oh, man," He said in calm disbelief. "I'm soaked." "Yeah?" Ronan's hand was reaching over to cup the still-warm padding. He could feel both layers were full to capacity and felt grateful they'd decided to put Austin in two. "Yeah, buddy, I'd say you are pretty soaked." At those words, Ronan could feel Austin's penis twitch under his hand. Of course, it was the morning and Austin was always a victim of morning wood... that could mean anything... and Ronan felt he could use a little...positive reinforcement. Rubbing his hand gently over the swollen padding, as if he was testing for leaks, Ronan spoke, "You did a good job using your pull-ups instead of wetting the bed." Austin's body shivered. His hands fisted in the sheets as if trying to control himself. "Yeah?" He hummed inquisitive. "Such a good boy for me, Aussie," Ronan continued, leaning into the praise kink he knew Austin already possessed. When Austin came, it was into the soaked layers of padding, his hips twitching and lips parting in a gasp. It was the quickest orgasm Ronan had ever seen from him. They didn't talk about it, but later, as Austin was showering, Ronan put out his clothes for the day and added one of the pull-ups. Already deciding to pick up a large pack that afternoon. And if Austin did nothing but smile shyly as he slipped the pull-up on under his clothes...well... that was their business.
  2. Kaden waited outside the door, staring at his watch. "Come at 7:46. That is 7:46, not 7:45, or 7:47. You will wear exactly what I send you in your messages. If anything is off, you will be punished. Understood? " he had said. 7:44 Kaden bit his lip. Of course, he had agreed. Why wouldn't he? He was being paid to, and had to admit to himself he loved the orders. 7:45 and 30 seconds. He was wearing exactly what he had been told. Most of it was normal. A dark blue suit, with a lighter blue tie, the kind of thing anyone else would wear to the same job. Someone looking closely might notice it was far more expensive then he should have been able to afford on his salary, but it wasn't that strange for high level lawyers like Edward Greyan to buy clothes for their secretaries for looks. Traditionally those secretaries were women, but especially in the modern era, no one would question a separate choice. If someone looked even more closely, or, say, took some of the clothes off as Edward was wont to do, they may have noticed a few other things. They may have noticed the small, thin collar hidden under his tie. They may have noticed the tiny lock on his belt, which Kaden had attached at home knowing Edward had the only key. They may have noticed something else, which was what made Kenyan blush the deepest when he thought of it. 7:46. Kaden opened the door and walked in. He walked down the long hallway bordered on both sides by mirrors. Seeing himself, an his own shy, awkward stride, only made him more nervous as he approached the main office. "Good morning sir," he said as he entered. "Good morning Kaden" Edward replied. Kaden sighed in relief. No anger yet, so that meant no punishment. "Kaden, can you come into my office for a minute?" Edward said. Kaden closed his eyes and swore in his mind. Something was off. He entered the office to see Edward facing away from him, going over a pile of files on his own desk. Edward was everything Kenyan wanted and wished he could be. Successful, smart, and with the confidence and air to show it. While Kaden walked in short, shy steps, Edward strode with long, broad movements. He stood straight, suit and hair maintained perfectly, and spoke with an authoritative voice his clients had come to trust. Kaden stopped at the door. The instruction was "into my office," no further, and he was careful to follow it exactly. Edward shuffled through a few more papers. He picked a few out of the pile and laid them straight on his desk. Finally, he let out a quick sigh and began. "Kedan, what time is it?" Kaden swallowed. "7:46 sir," he said. He looked at the clock on Edward's wall to confirm. "Is it now?" he smiled. "And what is wrong with that?" "Ummm..." "Well?" "You said come in at 7:46." Edward turned to look at Kaden, who flinched at his gaze. "I did. And did you arrive then?" "Yes sir," he said. He paused. If he had, Edward probably wouldn't be asking. "I think so sir?" Edward sighed. "How long have you been standing there?" "Maybe a minute sir." "So if you've been standing there for a minute, and it is now 7:46, what time did you come in?" Kaden panicked. "But I checked my wa... Edward cut him off. "What time did you come in?" "7:45." "And what time did I say to come in?" "7:46 sir." "So you didn't follow my instructions. That is ten." Kaden flinched. "Yes sir."
  3. Part 1 I can’t say I was in a bright point of my life, literally or figuratively. The perpetual darkness of third shift work coupled with the lackluster performance in my freshman year of college and losing my girlfriend of two years only a month before had sent me down a spiral of depression that I wasn’t certain would have an achievable recovery. I thought when I graduated from high school that I’d had life all figured out. I would take the job working the night shift at the airport for a few years, then go on to become a hot-shot business man or advertising executive. The airport would provide me with free tuition to the university a few hours from my home town, and the degree would get me the rest of the way. I guess to tell you a little bit about myself... I’m Adam Stafford. I’m the youngest child of Dennis and Joanne Stafford, and brother to Megan. I grew up in a small community that kept me sheltered from just about everything not small-town or Jesus-y. My Dad is a pilot for United Airlines, my Mom an executive for the local hospital. They divorced my sophomore year of highschool in a very messy battle, and pretty much alienated everyone in the family from each other. We’ve all gone our own ways, really only communicating for weddings, funerals, birthdays, or normal holidays. Don’t feel bad, it really is better this way. I had a pretty good childhood, no major complaints. I was always outgoing as a kid, knowing that a sharp wit and self-deprecating humor would remove any ammo that any school bullies would seek to leverage. Not to be arrogant, but I was a cute kid. Unfortunately for me, the cuteness never really went anywhere. I never hit that magical growth spurt that would cause me to tower above my friends, dunk a ball, or set records of the track. I currently stand a slightly below average height of 5’6”. I also never seemed to experience the flood of testosterone that would sculpt my body like a Greek god either. I guess I just stayed cute and youthful when everyone else became handsome and matured. But, like I said, I was never really picked on, so I didn’t mind my height or looks. I was moderately popular by highschool, usually being known as the smart-ass class clown. I had no trouble maintaining a 4.0 grade point average while also cutting jokes constantly. My humor and confidence opened up doors for me. I was nominated to prom court my Junior year, and also started dating a beautiful girl named Sarah. She was a grade younger than I was and came from a well-respected family not far from mine. As my perverted uncle Nick would say “That girl comes from good stock.” She and I dated all through my senior year, never really had any fights, and my parents adored her and hers adored me. We were voted “Most Likely to Stay Together” by the yearbook committee and happily danced in the spotlight as homecoming king and queen... a real shocker since I didn’t play football. Sarah was heart-broken when I decided to move for school. She had known it was my intent, but I think she assumed I would change my mind because we were dating. I had considered staying a time or two, but with the still fresh divorce of my parents and my sister moving away to California for school, I knew I couldn’t stay in small-town America for much longer. After the initial shock wore off, we made the plan together that she would move in with me after she graduated and we would attend college together, live together, and live up to the expectations of the yearbook committee. My job, coupled with free tuition would allow us to get an apartment together and, down the road, we’d both graduate. We’d start a family, be rich and successful, and have a marriage so happy that our grandkids would tell their children about. It was that simple, and it all laid out perfectly. She and I did everything together while we dated. I loved it at the time, but later realized that the friends I had prior to us dating all seemed to have move on. I didn’t have any core friends anymore, she consumed my every waking moment. I don’t think she was trying to cause a falling out, I think she was just so in love with the thought of being in love that she couldn’t let go. Sarah and I were both each other’s first for just about everything. We awkwardly explored our raging teenage hormones not long after we started dating, both trying to build the courage to take things just a little bit further each opportunity we had. I can vividly remember the look on Sarah’s face when she touched my cock for the first time. It was over my shorts, but I could tell she tried to play it off like an accident as her hand slowly rubbed on my thigh. Of course having zero experience and a beautiful girl rub her hands on me caused some tenting to happen rather quickly. She noticed. It was the first touch that shot electricity through my body as we laid cuddled up on the chair in the den of her parents upscale country-chic home, a blanket covering our still-clothed bodies. She moved her hand away quickly at first contact. I could see her face from the corner of my eye, flushed with excitement, very lightly nibbling on her lower lip with nerves. After a few seconds, I felt her hand begin to creep back up. I heard her sigh audibly as she very carefully laid her hand on my now fully erect dick. I could see the faintest smile form on her face as she crossed the hurdle. Both of us were too afraid to do much else, but she did very gently rub for a moment before we heard the garage door open, signaling that our alone time was at an end. From that day on, we both pushed the envelope just a bit more. I took advantage of days she would wear skirts to school and use the ease of access to fondle her anytime we had some privacy. I’m happy to say that I was her first non-self-induced orgasm, right there under that same blanket on that same chair. I can remember hearing her try and stifle her moans, no doubt fearful of waking her parents directly above us in their bedroom. It nearly sent me over the edge as well when she sucked my fingers clean right after. One evening while her parents were out celebrating their anniversary, Sarah excused herself to the restroom in the middle of ‘The Goonies’ and emerged wearing only her baby blue thong and matching bra, her hair tied up with a white lace ribbon. She approached me, my jaw now slack from the beauty I was witnessing, and yanked the blanket from my lap. She settled in on her knees in front of me trying to appear confident and sexy, but I could see her trembling from nerves. I could tell how big of a step this was for her. She pulled my shorts and boxers down, nearly ripping them in the process, and stared wide-eyed at my dick. She never really looked closely at it while using her hands. She would usually play coy and keep watching TV while jerking me off. Now though, she was face to face. I can still see the shimmer from the chapstick on her lips as she very slowly moved her mouth over the head of my cock. She froze once it was in for what felt like an eternity. I could hear her breathing becoming rapid, and for the first time in front of me, I saw her hand move quickly into the waistband of her panties as she touched herself. As she began moving my dick in and out of her mouth, her hand motions became more rapid under the thin baby blue fabric. It wasn’t 3 minutes into the blowjob before Sarah had a massive orgasm, seemingly larger than the ones I could giver her with my own hands or tongue. She pulled her face away, a trail of saliva extending from the head of my cock to her lips and only said ‘fuck’. I believe it was at that very moment that Sarah realized that she had a passionate love for giving head. She attacked my dick after that, like there was nothing else in the world. She didn’t flench when I came, just swallowed and tried to keep going until I pushed her off due to the sensitivity. Things progressed from there. Sarah gave me head every chance she could, preferring to give orgasms rather than receive them. We finally had sex a few weeks after that, in the dark basement bedroom of a friends house. I was disappointed that she didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I thought she would, opting after maybe 5 minutes to have me pull out and finish in her mouth. We didn’t have sex often, but when we would, it always ended in the same way. Everything in life was perfect, even after I moved… or so I thought. I went home many weekends and we seemed to pick up right where we left off. Everything was perfect. Until Sarah cheated on me, at least. I heard about it from a former classmate still living back home. He said he saw Sarah and some guy in a car together driving in town. He said it was a new looking BMW, a car that isn’t very common in our small town, so he took notice and tried to see who was driving. He didn’t recognize the guy driving, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her, he got a clear view from the windshield as they passed on the road. He said he turned around to see what was up and after about 5 minutes of following them, he said he saw Sarah sit up tall, then lean her body across the center console of the car. He said he didn’t see her again for about 10 minutes and that the guy started driving pretty erratic during that time, and kept rolling his head around. He followed at a distance and eventually saw her head rise again and they carried on. He followed them until they turned into a restaurant. He circled the block and watched them walk hand-in-hand into the building. He even said she was wearing a little yellow sun dress... I knew it well. She always looked amazing in it. I guess it goes without saying that I felt like I had been stabbed in the chest as I listened to his recanting of the story. I trusted the guy and knew he wouldn’t be saying these things to fuck with me. I quickly got off the phone with him and called her, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again, again right to voicemail. Finally she sent me a text asking what was up. I didn’t know what else to do so I said “Jeremy saw you two together. I’m bummed you never offered to give me road head.” Of course this elicited a call back right away. I was heartbroken, but I did appreciate that she didn’t try and deny anything. She didn’t lie. She said she wasn’t happy anymore and wanted to move on. By this point, I knew what she meant. I had started working third shift already and had a rapid decline in happiness. I was always cranky, always tired. She was right and I hated myself for it. “You’re not you anymore, Adam. You’re sad all of the time... you sleep constantly. You don’t strike up conversations on the phone, and that’s all we have most of the time since we can’t be together.” She had told me as I stared blankly at the wall of my kitchen, tears now flooding my vision. “I’m sorry you found out like this, but I’m glad you found out.” “Yeah, pretty shitty way of you breaking it off though.” I countered. She agreed. That was the last time we spoke. After Sarah ended it, I sunk further into a depressive state. My life revolved solely around work, school, and Netflix in my basement studio apartment. Typically I would wake up around 10 in the morning and catch the campus shuttle to class. The classes were specifically scheduled for employees of the airport, allowing us to work nights and attend school without as much sleep depravation. After class I would usually eat some dinner in the campus cafeteria and do some homework, then report in for my shift. I didn’t mind my job. It was easy compared to the manual labor most people had to do to pay for their tuition. I drove a tug around pulling trailers of packages bound for different planes all night. All... night... long. I could usually start my shift with a conversation with the dock supervisor and not talk to another person for the rest of the night. I was known as ‘Tug 4301’ and drove the exact route from the south dock to the west ramp, spots 1, 3, 5, 7, and 9, then back to the south dock to reload and do it all again. We weren’t allowed to have music, cell phones, audio books, or anything else to help pass the time due to FAA regulations, so I had hours to see the same sights, and have the same thoughts and internal conversations. At around 3 in the morning, I would park my tug back behind the south dock and begin the walk back to the shuttle to campus. From the bus stop, it was a brief walk back to my apartment. By this time, the vast majority of the factory employees had already departed, meaning the bus ride was usually as isolated as the tug. Back in the basement abyss, the daylight blacked out by thick curtains and a “Please do not disturb, I work the graveyard shift!” sign that the previous occupant had left behind, I ended my day with some concoction of frozen meals and another episode of The Office. Occasionally, I would think about Sarah. How her hair seemed to shine as intensely as the sun. How she would nibble gently at my lower lip when she would kiss me. How she would deftly put her hair up in a ponytail and lick her lips before she would push me back towards the bed or chair... or floor and nearly attack my dick. These memories would cease thanks to my self delivered orgasm, and I hate to say it... sometimes I would cry. I would always feel ashamed. By 5am, I would be asleep, waiting for the alarm to signal that it was time to live another instance of Groundhog Day all over again. It was nearly six months into this routine that I decided it was time to get help. I knew I was depressed. I scheduled an appointment with a counselor at school on a Monday morning. I didn’t work Sunday nights, so Monday was usually my ‘live like a normal person’ day, but I knew I was going to keep going down darker and darker paths until there was no return. Fortunately by this time, the nagging memories of Sarah had faded to an occasional jolt of emotion that would strike unprovoked, but would subside after a quick orgasm. “Have you been eating alright, you look really thin...” the counselor said as I sat in the chair across from her. The question reeled in my thousand yard stare. “Umm... probably could eat better, to be honest. I don’t have much of an appetite, really.” I awkwardly responded. I had lost a significant amount of weight in the past few months. At my high school graduation, I was nearly 140lbs. At my last work physical a few days prior, I was down to 116lbs. Even at 5’6”, I was looking too thin for my frame. “Adam, this is pretty serious. I think you need to see a doctor... this may be more than you and I can handle alone. You’ve got me a bit worried.” she said with a concerned look. “Will you do that? Will you promise me that you’ll see one of our doctors?” “Yeah, I guess so. Yeah.” murmured back. “And I want you to promise me, Adam... I want you to promise me that you’ll look after yourself until then. And I want you to promise me that you’ll come back and see me after your appointment. I’m going to schedule it. Okay?” “Yeah, of course.” I said, realizing that she was genuinely worried that I would hurt myself. “I will, I promise.” She smiled at that, and attempted to give me a reassuring pat on my hand. “Maybe you should hang out with some friends until then. Maybe try and have fun... see a movie, bowl, laser tag... try and not be alone if you can help it.” she said as she escorted me to the end of the hallway of the student health center. I smiled as best I could. I hoped it to be warm, but the look on her face told me that she could see right through the facade. The walk back to my apartment seemed colder than usual. I looked around at the other people navigating their way thought the urban campus with their heads slung low to protect from the biting wind and wondered if I was alone in feeling like this, or if there were others near me right now that were struggling just as bad. Maybe if I tried, I would find others like me and we could pick each other up. If I tried... but I really didn’t feel like trying. They probably wouldn’t either. I arrived back to my apartment and sat in bed, turned on Netflix, and opened up my laptop. It wouldn’t hurt to look and see if anyone was out there. Maybe grab lunch with someone, maybe a movie. I decided to check around on some of the school forums and Facebook to see if any groups were meeting soon. I didn’t see any that really caught my interest. I eventually ended up Craigslist thinking maybe there were some groups posting on there. I browsed for a while, nothing piquing my interest. I was about to close out the page when I saw the ‘Personals’ section and decided to browse that avenue as well just for the heck of it. The ‘F for M’ section was pretty sparse, most of the women looking were significantly older, had children, or were blatantly looking for money in exchange for company. While I wasn’t seeing anything that interested me, I was finding some thrill in reading the posts. Some were witty, some funny. Some were so sexually charged that I considered responding for a split second, kids or age be damned. I navigated each section enthralled by how some people were able to put themselves out there so openly, so anonymously vulnerable. I envied their cavalier attitude and only wished I could put myself out there like they did. I kept going down the rabbit hole, page after page, profile after profile. Some of the specifics people were listing were repulsive, but many made me jealous that I didn’t have Sarah to try them with. I wasn’t really prepared for some of the detail I encountered in the ‘M for M’ section, to say the least. I had never really given much thought to gay sex, it was something that went undiscussed in sheltered small-town USA. I didn’t have any issue with gay people, but I honestly didn’t give it much more thought than that. But the level of detail described of the litany of posts from just today... I didn’t have to use my imagination much. I clicked through post after post, caught up in reading the carnal nature of the post, intrigued beyond belief by what I was reading. Most of the posts didn’t talk about love or relationships, they talked about gritty sex. They talked about gang bangs and blow-and-gos. Anonymous mouths for anonymous dicks. It was enthralling. “Loving but Firm Professional seeking Young, Inexperienced to Nurture and Teach” the title read as I scrolled down the list, measured now by minutes scrolling rather than pages. It was lost in the sea of others, but it stood out to me for some reason. I clicked the link and stared intently as the screen flickered from the main page to the posting. “Hi, thanks for reading. I’m a 38 year old legal professional looking for a young boy between 18 and 22 to teach about sexual desire. Ideal candidate is slim and naturally submissive to power, and completely inexperienced with men. I want a boy I can build from the ground up. Must have an open mind. Message me if you think this is you, you’ll know right away if it is.” Fuck. I don’t know what came over me at that moment, but my heart began to race, my hands became sweaty, and my lips dry. I read and reread the post multiple times, each time exciting me more. It was as if instinct required that I replied. I straightened myself up in bed and began to search my laptop for a face picture that was generic enough to be lost in a crowd. I didn’t want this guy recognize me right away, just in case. I found a full body picture from earlier in the fall at a Halloween party back home. I didn’t dress up, but I thought I looked decent, and the ball cap I was wearing at the time obstructed part of my face. “Hello. I’m not gay, so I’m not sure why I’m replying to be honest. I've never been with a guy. I'm 18, a freshman in college. Something about your post. It struck me. I don’t even know what else to write. You don't have to write back if you don't want or if I don't fit what you say you're looking for." Attachment: 1” My heart was frantically beating in my chest as I hit send from my spam collecting Yahoo Mail account. I had felt more alive in these few minutes than I can remember feeling since moving to the city. I stared at the inbox, nearly expecting an immediate rejection reply or an email from someone back home saying they were cat-fishing and happened to reel me in. I stared at the screen for at least five minutes, barely breathing before setting the laptop down and getting up to use the restroom and grab a drink. I nearly dove across the room when I heard the ‘Ding’ signifying a new email. “Save 15% or more on car insurance with Geico”. Damn it. What the hell was I doing. I’m not gay. I’ve literally never even thought about it until 10 minutes ago, and now I’m so worked up to get the attention of someone writing on a public forum. I closed the laptop and walked over to the chair to focus in on Season 4 of The Office... yet again. Sipping on the Diet Coke and watching Dwight be Dwight and Jim be Jim, the urge to check again struck me. It had been some time, surely enough for some sort of response. I retyped the password into the Yahoo Mail page and saw the familiar ’Inbox (1)’ notification staring me in the face. I clicked, and went weak as the page opened. There it was. “Re: Seeking” I took a deep breath and clicked on the email that loaded painfully slow. “Hello. Thanks for writing. I know you. Don’t worry, not you specifically (although hard to tell with the photo so far away). I know your type though. I'm willing to bet that you just happed to stumble upon my message without really going out and looking for it. I have a feeling this is so new to you that you've really got very little desire in actually meeting anyone. If you are serious about at least meeting up and discussing more, send me a better picture. -Steve” With a slight smirk on my face, and my heart back to racing, I opened Facebook to find a better picture to send. I selected one from a family vacation in Hawaii. I had shaggy, dirty blonde hair and was standing shirtless in front of a waterfall on the Napali Coast. I was bronzed by the sun, and a smile beaming on my face. A tinge of pain hit me as I looked at the picture, I was standing there with Sarah. Her beautiful face staring up at me, a smirk affixed to her full lips, and her gorgeous body clad in a small red bikini. I drew in a deep breath and downloaded the photo to my desktop and cropped Sarah’s face and body out of the picture until only myself and the waterfall remained. “As requested. -Adam Attachment: 1” Sent. I felt as if I were going to vomit at that point. If this were a rouse, I was surely busted. It was clearly me in the photo, no mistaking that. A screencap of the conversation with my picture plastered there was surely enough to ruin any chance I had at a happy life, if malice were intended. Ding. Inbox (1) “Re: re: re: Seeking” “You’re perfect, baby. Perfect in every way. You are exactly what I was hoping you would be. My name is Steve. I’ve been pretty clear with what I’m really looking for, so I hope that you’ll understand when I say that I’m not interested in games and flaking out on meetings, etc. If you really are interested, and if you really are willing, I want to meet you face to face. Send me your phone number if you want to keep going. Attachment: 1” I double clicked the attachment, fearful that what I had conjured up in my mind would be a far stray from reality. The painfully slow wi-fi struggled to open the picture, but when it did, I was stunned. He was so handsome. Large, for sure. Not fat at all, but he had to be at least 6’6” judging by the SUV that he towered over. He had a stern smile and an intense gaze at the camera... it felt as if he took the picture specifically for me. His hair, his suit... he was the personification of masculine. I struggled to figure out how only a few hours ago I was numb and seemingly entirely heterosexual, and now I was lusting over a man. A dominant man... and I wanted it to happen so bad. I did everything I could for the next few hours to distract myself from the email. I had to be at work tonight, so no phone, no email. I knew if I wanted to go through with this, I would need to decide well before then. He was very insistent that the only content in the reply be my phone number. What if I sent it and he called while I was working? What if he began texting me with times and locations and I was unable to reply? I knew I had to decide now. Being the decisive and confident guy I am, I flipped a coin. Okay... heads, I send my phone number. Tails... I don’t. Simple. Leave it up to fate. With a deep breath, I flipped the coin into the air. Heads. “I’m serious: 555-776-2323 -Adam”
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