The Algorithm (Patreon)

Hey all, the next episode of Encore will be a couple days late. I'm in the middle of moving to a temporary place while my landlord does some renovations this month, so my apologies, but life has been chaotic. Thanks for the understanding. -D

What fresh horrors do we have today?

I saw this article that said you shouldn’t check your phone in the morning.  Instead you should hydrate, get fifteen minutes of sunlight, and let your nervous system reset.

Too bad I can’t help it.

I’m a political guy.  An activist or a protestor or an ideologue.  Whatever you want to call me, I’m the guy who thinks it’s our responsibility to make the world a better place.

It’s not easy in a world like ours.  When I was in university, it seemed like all my friends were willing to show up for a good cause.  Now those same friends have nine to five jobs and investment accounts.  They say they’re still on the right side of history — they’re just too tired to show up.

I’m tired too, but I’ve curated my feed carefully. I follow journalists and activists and NGOs.

You have to stay one step ahead of the algorithm.  Limit your screen time, focus on content that matters, and most importantly, avoid the cheap high you get from shallow bullshit.

Dopamine.  Serotonin.  These are the neurotransmitters they use to hook you.  I’d stay off the apps if I could, but that’s where the organizing happens.  That’s how we reach out to our community.

So instead I pry my eyes open, grasp for my iPhone, and read the headlines.

----------

I pay my bills by working as a barista.  They can’t pay me more than minimum wage, but it’s locally owned, and the owner lets me use the shop for political organizing after we close for the night.

There were a half-dozen of us there, debriefing about last Saturday’s protest.  We were hoping to get two hundred people to turn out — not an easy job.  We managed to get 500 RSVPs, but only fifty had shown.

“We should try the personal outreach phone tree again,” I was suggesting.  “Facebook invites are easy to send, but a phone call actually gets results.  Garrett, you’ve got the numbers from last time we…”

I looked around for Garrett.  He’s an older guy, mid-thirties, and we rely on him to keep our data organized.

“Uh… where’s Garrett?” I looked at Marc.  Marc’s our volunteer coordinator — his whole job is making sure that everyone gets the invite.

“Oh, yeah…” Marc nodded.  “He’s been really flakey lately.  Cancelled on us last weekend, and he didn’t even answer my text yesterday.”

“Maybe he’s sick or something?” Ashley said.  She’s our social media guru.

“I’m sure he’ll show up next week,” Marc shrugged.  “And if not, y’know, people come and go.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly.  “Okay… so how do we feel about phone outreach?”

I got outvoted.  Phone trees are effective, but they’re a hell of a lot of work.

----------

I decided to stop by Garrett’s place on my way home.  I know people flake out sometimes, but that’s not his style.  Besides… what if he’d gotten hurt or arrested or whatever.

He buzzed me right up.  Didn’t even check to see who it was.  I know some people do that when they’re expecting a food delivery, but those services exploit desperate workers and skirt employment laws — Garrett would never support them.

My eyes went wide when he answered the door.

Shit… how did I not know Garrett was jacked!  Not to be fat phobic, obviously all bodies are beautiful, but Garrett… you could put Garrett on a magazine cover and he’d fit into our current socio-political definition of the ideal.

And he was showing it all off in a pair of booty shorts.

“Whoa,” I blinked twice.  “Uh… nice shorts.”

“Thanks bro,” the grinned.  “They’re new.  Expensive… like… eighty bucks a pair, but like… so don’t buy shirts, y’know?”

I couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth.  Garrett’s the guy who taught me how to thrift shop — obviously only at the thrift stores that raise money for their communities — because it lowers our carbon footprint.  Plus you find some cool stuff.

But these shorts looked like they were the worst of fast fashion.  Expensive, disposable, and full of micro-plastics.

Plus that made his dick look massive.  Was Garrett gay?  Obviously, I’m an ally, but…

Garrett?

His doorbell rang and he buzzed someone else up without using the intercom.

“Sorry dude, I gotta go in a sec,” Garrett said in a weird accent.  It sounded like he was trying to come off like a California surfer or something.  “Like… what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh… you missed the last couple things,” I stuttered.  “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah bro, all good,” he said, flashing me a wide grin and a double thumbs up.  “Yo, down here,” he waved past me.

I turned around and saw a guy about my age coming up the hall.  Tight tee, loose jeans, and that stupid haircut you see sported by every frat bro on campus.

“Hey,” he said, glancing at me.  “I’m Caleb.”

“Nice,” Garrett said before turning his attention back to me.  “Hey bro, good to see ya, but I gotta go.”

“Sure,” I said, confused.  “Glad you’re alright.  I’ll see you on Thursday, okay?”

Behind him, I could see Caleb peeling off his shirt.

“Maybe,” Garrett shrugged.  “Unless you wanna stick around now?”

Caleb was down to his boxers.  I noped out of there and hurried for the stairs.

What the actual fuck.

----------

It was nearly midnight when I stepped off the bus.  My ass was dragging, but my mind was racing.  Was Garrett on drugs?  Not that I’ve got a problem with drugs, we all deal with our traumas in our own ways, so long as you’ve got a safe supply.

But I didn’t think Garrett did anything harder than pot.  He didn’t even touch alcohol!

Logically, I knew that it was none of my business.  A person gets to make their own choices.  But Garrett and I had stood shoulder to shoulder for years, I couldn’t just drop him because he was having a weird month.

“Hey Garrett,” I texted him before I headed to bed.  “It was good to see you today!  I hope we’ll see you at our organizing meeting on Thursday.  8 PM at the regular place!”

I got three dots for a second, but he left me on read.

----------

My alarm went off and I grabbed for my phone.  There were a half-dozen notifications from news apps, but I also had a couple texts from Garrett.  Of course I tapped there first.

“haaaay bro thx for stopping by :)” he’d texted me sometime around 2 AM.  “sry i had to blow u off, woulda loved to chill…”

Yeah, he was definitely fucked up on something.

Below that, he’d texted me a link to something on Instagram.  I’ve clicked on a thousand links from Garrett before, it was usually an event I should know about or a piece of news I had to be aware of, but… I know I shouldn’t have clicked on this one.

Blame it on being sleepy.  I opened it without thinking.

“Bro,” an over muscled twenty-something grinned at the camera.  “This is the reel you wanna text like… all your friends.”

I closed it without thinking too.  Whatever Garrett was into, it wasn’t my vibe.

----------

Our Thursday meeting came and went without anything else from Garrett.  After the meeting Ashley stayed behind and chatted while I washed our mugs.

“I didn’t know what to say,” I told her.  “I just stood outside his apartment like an idiot while his… I dunno, his boyfriend or something… while he walked in.”

“You’re sweet,” Ashley said.  “But I don’t think that was his boyfriend.  You know Grindr?”

“Not… personally,” I said.  “But yeah, I’ve seen it in the news.”

“Besides, you said he reached out after, right?” Ashley said.  “So he can’t have thought it was too awkward.  I’m sure he’s waiting to hear back from you.”

“From me?” I asked.  “About what?”

“About whatever’s in that video,” she pressed.  “Okay, I get it, you’re such a straight heterosexual masculine man… you’d never watch some shirtless guy on Instagram… but Garrett sent you this one.  There’s something he wants you to see.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“And you clearly want to get the discourse started,” Ashley pointed out.  “So just watch the reel and text him back about it.  The ball’s in your court.”

“I hate sports metaphors,” I snapped.  “Fine, I’ll throw him a touchdown or whatever.”

“God you’re hopeless,” Ashley laughed.

“I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”

----------

I’d thought about watching the video during my bus ride, but my like to keep my data available to live-stream the cops.

When I got home, all I wanted to do was go to bed.  Work, chores, organizing, the stress of living in the world, the work of trying to live the right way in this world…

Do you know how long it takes me to grocery shop?  I’m constantly reading labels to make sure stuff is ethically sourced.

But I’d left Garrett hanging for two days already, and Ashley was right — he wanted me to see whatever, and that’d open up the door to communication.

“Hey yhere,” a young guy on Instagram grinned.  He was working in a garden while he talked.  “This is the reel you wanna text like… all your friends.  This is the reel where you find out… the meaning of life.”

I rolled my eyes and thought about Garrett.

“Look… you’re a man.  People tell you to support a family, defend a country, save a planet.  It’s all on your shoulders.  I get it.  You’re a responsible guy.  A good guy.  But you’re on a path to burnout.”

He talked for a couple minutes about how you can push so hard it destroys your ability to keep going.  About how you need to find moments of clarity and peace and joy in your world if you want to do the things that are important.  Honestly… it resonated with me.

I wasn’t lying to Ashley when I said I was exhausted.  But maybe there was something I could do about it…

He wasn’t a news source or a non-profit, but I still hit follow.

“Hey man,” I texted Garrett.  “Thanks for the video.  Speaks to me.”

It only took a minute for him to text back.

“that’s great dude!!” he wrote.  “i been feeling the same shit… thot i recognized it in u :)”

----------

The next time I went to check the news, I was greeted by a reel from the burnout guy.

Makes sense.  When you follow someone, socials flood you with their recent posts to keep you hooked.  But this stuff was interesting, so I watched a couple of his reels on supporting your body through stress.

The formula was always the same.  He’d be out in his garden, often shirtless, and he’d be doing something in the dirt while he talked.  The guy had a really calming voice, so even just listening to him talk about finding your peace felt like therapy.

I assume.  I can’t afford therapy.

I watched his videos for maybe… five minutes?  Then I shook my head and tried to remember why I’d opened the app.  I must have been looking for something…

Right!  I saw a headline and I wanted to get the details.  Mainstream news never covers the whole story.

I swiped a couple times and saw my feed was starting to fill up with information and commentary from other activists.  One of my favourites spent ten minutes laying out why this was the most important piece of social justice in our lifetime.

Reel after reel, I absorbed the news.  But then I swiped for the next thing and… it was another influencer.  Like the burnout guy, but… this one talked about the importance of mental clarity.

“Personally, I find it helpful to meditate every day,” he said, sipping on a glass of cucumber water.  “Clearing your mind of distractions opens up the space for what’s really important.  Ask yourself… do I need to keep scrolling?  Or am I holding enough for today?”

He was right.  At this point, I was just seeing the same news over and over.

I hit follow, closed the app, and tried to clear my thoughts.

----------

My job has busy times and it’s got times when nobody walks in for a half-hour.  I normally use those lulls to check the news, but lately I’ve been deep breathing and working on my mindfulness.

And if I had a few minutes after finding zen… well, it didn’t hurt to check out a few reels.  Maybe find some pointers on how to keep myself centred.

I flicked past the news — protests and politics — and looked for something new from the couple wellness influencers I was into.  Neither of them had posted in hours, but the algorithm  caught my eye with one.  This blond college kid with incredible abs.  I had to stop for a second and watch, just cause they were so unbelievable.

“Man…” I whispered to myself.  “That guy’s taking care of himself…”

He was gesturing to his body, probably explaining some ‘get fit quick’ scheme, but when I tapped on the audio he was talking about managing your energy.

“It’s important you take time for yourself,” he said, reaching back and grabbing the handles of some gym machine.  “My happy place is the gym, but yours should reflect who you are as a person.  A library, a beach, a café… what’s important is that you focus on YOU, make time for YOU.  Don’t let the world overwhelm your needs.”

I nodded along.

“Uh, hey?” I heard a deep voice say.  My head snapped up and I slammed my phone down on the countertop.  He was dressed in gym clothes and he had a yoga mat under one arm..

“Oh, sorry,” I said, trying to clear my head.  “Got distracted.”

“Yeah, I know,” he laughed.  “I swear, I check my phone and an hour vanishes.”

“I was just on it a minute,” I shrugged.

“Sure,” he chuckled.  “Can I get a latte?”

“You got it,” I said, making small talk as I worked on his drink.  “You go to a gym near here?  I’m thinking I gotta find one.  I need to take better care of myself.”

“Yeah…” he said, looking me over.  “I like to train at Forge — it’s just a couple blocks away, and they have a really good setup.  Decent classes too.”

“Cool,” I said, handing over his drink.  “Thanks for the recommend.”

“For sure,” he said.  “I’m Jared, by the way.”

“Pete.”

----------

I wrapped up our organizing meeting early that night.  We weren’t really making any decisions, just talking in circles.  Besides, it had been a long week and I deserved some time to myself.

On the bus ride home I was scrolling reels.  I’d started following this influencer who did these ‘#GRWM’ videos, which I found out stands for ‘Get Ready With Me’.  He’d talk through his fashion choices, why stuff worked together, that kind of thing.

Not like I was gonna run out and buy a bunch of new clothes, but his point was that anyone can look better if you just put a little pride into your appearance.

That’s probably easy to say when you’re hot.  I’m not awful looking, but I’ve never really put any effort into it.  Well… now I had a little time to think about it.

When I got home I went right into my bathroom and stripped off my shirt.  I’m not skinny and I’m not fat and I’m not buff.  I was just sort of… in between.  But thinking about the #GRWM videos… maybe I could still pull something off.

I basically emptied my dresser and spent the evening checking combinations.  All in all, I could make a couple dozen decent outfits, just with what I already had.

Reduce, reuse, recycle.  It’s a lifestyle.

It looked good on me.

----------

Of course I’m still spending lots of time organizing.  The future is at stake.

I was noticing the impact.  I think that first video was right — I was burnt out.  It was getting harder and harder for me to sit down and concentrate for more than a few minutes.  Things that should have taken an hour were taking all day.

But I was trying to accept it and give myself some space to exist.  Sometimes I’d get a notification and lose myself in the feed for an hour or two.  Some people might say that’s a waste of time, but for me it was a well-earned break.

So what if my organizing crew didn’t understand.  Garrett got it.  We were texting almost every night, it really felt like we were building a fresh new connection.  I was sure he’d be back to the fight soon.

“hey bro u seen this one??” he’d text, sending me a link to a wellness influencer.

“Yup, saw it yesterday!” I’d text back.  “I think he’s right… how am I supposed to take care of the world if I don’t even take care of myself?  I’ve got to start eating better.  Maybe hit the gym?”

“dude yaaaaas!!!” Garret replied.  “you’d look so hot with some muscle!!”

I didn’t bother to push back on that.  Like I told you, I’m an ally.

That’s when Garrett started sending me fitness reels all the time.  It was a little outside what I’d been watching — most of the influencers I care about are talking about meditation or stress levels or how to make a t-shirt fit right.  These guy…

I want you to imagine a hundred thousand white guys between 19 and 25.  That’s the fitness influencer industry.  I imagine a lot of them worked at gyms, but some of them just wanted to be famous and travel the world.

Like you could blame them… I mean… if it wasn’t a huge climate issue.

Maybe I’d hike the Pacific Trail sometime.  See those views without the impact on my carbon footprint.  A few months off from the 24 hour news cycle was just what I needed.

I imagined the sun on my face, the wind in my hair… maybe I’d even splurge on a couple new tank tops for the trip.  This one guy I follow has his own fashion brand and he says he uses a special fabric that wicks moisture right off your skin!

----------

Of course change doesn’t happen overnight.  The gym just about wrecked me!

So instead of preparing for tomorrows protest, I slumped on my couch and scrolled.  I told myself it was just for an hour.  Maybe ninety minutes.

“If you want your pecs to look like these…” a blond bodybuilder said, pointing at a pair of rounded pecs.  “You wanna do these,” he said, cutting to a show of him doing incline bench press.

He made it look so easy.  Like you’d just roll out of bed one day and be a beast.

It was so weird focussing on my body this much.  I could swear I could actually feel my chest tingling as I watched the bodybuilder do his reps.  My pecs even started to twitch.

“Most people think big arms are the result of bicep curls,” a young guy with incredible shoulders was saying.  “But it’s actually the triceps that give mass.  You want these horseshoes, let me show you how!” he said, pointing at part of his arm and flexing.

And I swear I could feel those muscles tingling too.

“I’m going out for a casual night with my guys,” one pretty young muscle bro grinned.  “Get ready with me!”  It was total consumerist propaganda, but I…

I wanted to see him put together his look…

To see the big guys show off their muscles…

To watch the pretty ones do their makeup and fix their hair…

These guys were living a totally shallow existence, but you could feel the energy radiating off them.  They weren’t burnt out like me.  They were loving life.  The shadows got long.  The sun went down.  I stayed transfixed on my couch, lost in the content.

“Do this for a big ass,” one guy said, showing off his barbell hip thrusts.

“Layering with a jacket gives that perfect casual vibe,” another influencer said.

“If you wanna look big, you need a thick neck!”

“I use this combination liquid foundation and sunblock…”

“When you see those diamond calves, you know that guy can lift!”

The whole time, I could feel my body tingling.  Trembling.  Honestly, it was exciting to stop worrying about the world for an hour or two and indulge in a little fantasy.

Cause that’s all it was, right?  Sure, they were wasteful and vain and self-centred, but…

I was just watching.  Taking a little vacation.  Exploring a new path.

Until I felt the ground slip under me.

One hand shot out and grabbed the couch.  The other wouldn’t let go of my phone.

My pecs swelled with muscle.  Big heavy slabs of it.  I tried to pull my shirt off and it wouldn’t fit over my head.  My arms were getting too thick… my shoulders… fuck, I was getting bulky as hell…

“Oh god…” I gasped, feeling my shirt get tighter and tighter.  “No way… there’s no way…”

Finally I gave up and tore off my tee.  Wasteful, but… I had pecs!  Abs!  Triceps and biceps and veins along my forearms!

It was impossible.  I looked like a children’s toy.  Not just a Ken doll either… I was an action figure.  GI Joe!

And look, obviously the military industrial complex is toxic and we shouldn’t be teaching young boys that they need to look like some idealized plastic person in order to be accepted.

I brushed my hand against my nipples and felt my neck hair stand on end.

I felt like… so good.  Lost in a haze.  My waist hadn’t gotten much bigger, so I managed to unbutton my cargo pants and peel them off my newly thick legs.  After that, I could have slipped off my briefs, but…

Fuck it.  I tore them off.  My hand settled around my cock, cause…

Just cause.

Like you wouldn’t?

I laid on my bed and worked my shaft with a massive hand.  It wasn’t just muscle… it was like my bones had shifted.  Like my metabolism had changed.  Everything seemed so much smaller now.

Whatever, I could buy a new mattress later.  For now, all I wanted was release.  My cock was demanding it — and yeah, cause I know you’re curious… it definitely got bigger.

I pumped it for a few minutes, but… honestly, my wires were all crossed.  I kept thinking about the guys on Instagram, those big gym built physiques… those pretty dudes getting ready for a night out…

All the work they did…

The style they had…

The way their muscles swelled…

The burn they must have felt…

The way clothes slid across their skin…

My cock jerked and poured a load of cum all over my fist.  It pooled on my abs.

I was a mess, but I fell asleep happy.

----------

The weirdest part was nobody seemed to notice.  Or at least they didn’t say anything.

I don’t work at a Starbucks.  Our cafe is all worn out couches and mismatched mugs and a shelf of second-hand books on socialist ideals.  So when I walked in with seventy-five pounds of extra muscle and a fresh perm, I figured someone would say something.

Not like I’d care.  I looked awesome in my new clothes.  A muscle-fit tee and acid washed jeans.  They came pre-distressed, which still seemed dumb, but… hey, you gotta follow the trends, right?

“Hey Pete,” my boss said.  She was elbow deep in the espresso machine, trying to keep it running for one more day.

“Hey,” I said, half-grateful that she wasn’t gonna make a big thing about my new body.  “We got problems?”

“Oh, the machine is busted,” she said.  “Just like capitalism.”

“You should just buy a new one,” I shrugged.  “We deserve it, right?”

She looked like she was about to say something, but the bell rang and I turned to greet a customer.  My face lit up — it was Jared!  He didn’t have the yoga mat today, but he was still dressed for the gym.

“Hey bro,” he grinned.

“Hey Jared,” I matched him.  “Espresso machine’s busted… you okay with drip today?”

“Whatever you’re serving,” he said graciously.  “Hey, sick pump today.”

“Thanks bro,” I beamed.  “I hit a new PR on my chest flies!”

“I can tell,” Jared said, letting his eyes linger on my tee.  I bought it online, so it was a little tight… but who cared if you could see my nipples?  A man’s gotta show what he’s got, right?

“Yeah, I’m up like… twenty pounds on that lift,” I bragged.

“Shit…” Jared laughed.  “Wish I had that kinda self-discipline.”

“That’s funny,” I smirked.  “I’ve been watching a lot of influencers talk self-care.  This one guy I follow was talking about how you gotta give yourself ‘cheat days’, for… not just like diet, but breaking that routine too, y’know?”

Jared laughed and told me he’d watched the same reel.  Pretty soon we were scrolling through our phones and comparing who we followed.  I had a lot of news and dumb stuff in mine, but we followed a lot of the same wellness and fitness influencers.

“That cheat day thing is a good idea,” Jared circled back.  “How about tonight?”

“Huh?”

“You know Monroe’s, down on fifth street?  Maybe we could grab a beer.”

“Uh… I don’t,” I admitted.  “But… why not?  I can map it.”

“Awesome,” Jared’s face lit up.  “Seven o’clock?”

I had an organizing meeting, but…

“Sure,” I grinned.

----------

Sara was pissed at me for cancelling the meeting, but I deserved a night off.

Monroe’s didn’t look like much from the outside.  Inside there were only a few tables in use, just groups of guys hanging out and enjoying a night away from their girlfriends.

Yeah, I know… but it’s what I thought at the time.

I could have done a better job of noticing the signs.  The bartender was a young guy in a tanktop.  There were a bunch of flags hanging up for countries I didn’t know.  And instead of sports or news, the TV was playing “The Wizard of Oz”.  The old one, with Judy Garland.

Jared waved me over to his table.  Dude wanted to show off his gains BAD, he was wearing this tanktop hoodie thing with armholes that went down to his abs.  I gave him a fist bump and ordered a beer.

“Old movie, huh?” I said, pointing at the movie.

“Yeah,” Jared chuckled, like it was embarrassing.  “But we’re all friends of Dorothy here.”

“Huh?” I asked, taking the first sip of my beer.  The service was great!

“You know…” Jared said cautiously.  “Cause it’s a gay bar?”

“What…?” I asked, looking around.

Okay… that made the ‘no girls allowed’ vibe make sense.  And… pride flags I guess?  And no wonder the server was wearing those shorts…

“You know…” Jared chuckled nervously.  “Because I’m gay…”

“Oh…”

“I thought you were too…” Jared prodded.

“Oh…” I said, the pieces sliding into place.  “I’m… uh… no, I’m not.”

We sat awkwardly for a second or two.  I took another sip of my beer and tried to form a sentence, but… I just had to breath deep.  Let my mind clear.

“Uh… so… why’d you think that?” I asked.  “I mean… did I do something, or…?”

“I dunno,” Jared shrugged with an embarrassed look.  “We follow all the same influencers, and the way you talk about the guys at your gym, I thought… you know what, it’s dumb.  A straight guy can care about clothes and club music and moisturizer…”

I grinned at the thought.  Jared had told me about the club beats account a few days ago and I’d been obsessed with it.  I guess gay guys have good taste in music.

“Yeah…” I said, hoping I was letting him down gently.  “Hey, I’m sorry if I strung you along.”

“No way,” Jared said.  “It was my assumption.”

Jared was such a cool guy.  He cared about looking good and getting fit and having fun… all the stuff I care about too.  After a lifetime of cranky know-it-all comrades, I found myself wanting to keep him around.  Who cared if he was gay, we could be great friends!

“And… beers are on me, okay?” Jared said, offering an olive branch.

I chugged the back half of mine and landed my glass on the table.

“Then I guess we better have another,” I laughed.

Jared laughed with me and looked relieved.  He signalled for two more.

“I’m just gonna hit the bathroom, k?” I told him.  I could be cool about this, but… i needed a minute.

“Sure thing,” Jared said.  “It’s over there, just past the bar.”

I walked past a few tables of guys and I couldn’t help but feel their eyes roaming over my body.  Yeah, I’m hot now.  Seriously jacked, but… c’mon dudes.  Show a little control.

The bathrooms were all single occupancy, so I locked the door behind me and leaned against the wall.  He seriously thought I was gay?  Did all the regulars at my coffee shop think that?  Did my boss?  Maybe that’s why they weren’t saying anything about my transformation… too afraid of looking homophobic?

I mean, not like Jared did anything wrong.  I just —

My thoughts were interrupted by a notification.  Recommended for me.  I tapped automatically and watched as a gymbro who looked a lot like me spoke to the camera.

“Hey,” he said bashfully.  “So, I just figured I’d do a follow-up, cause the coming out video is all big and splashy, but nobody talks about six months later, y’know?  And I’ve just got to tell you… last year I felt like a whole different version of myself.  But now… I feel free.  Everyone has been so supportive and kind and thoughtful, and I have to say… if you’re wondering if you’re gay… if you’re ready to live authentically in the world… do it!  I promise you, it’ll change your life.”

It hit me like a wave of vertigo.  Jared… the bar… the reels…

I watched the video again.  The guy was kinda hot.

This could change my life.

----------

When I left the bathroom, it was like they’d swapped in a whole new bar.

Instead of the weirdness I felt walking through before, a realization had dawned — I was one hot piece of ass, and everyone wanted me.

There are worse things in this world than a bunch of hot dudes drooling over you.  I was shaking like I’d just downed a triple espresso.  My eyes could’t stop darting around and checking out the prospects.

I wondered if the bartender was single.  He was hot as fuck.

Or what about that older guy sitting at the bar?  He wanted me bad…

Or… my eyes landed on Jared.  Holy shit… I was already on a date with the hottest guy in the room.  Lucky me!

The bartender waited for me to sit, then brought us over the next round.  Jared downed the last dregs of his quick and handed back his pint glass.

“So… you added a bunch to your chest flys?” he asked, trying to find the right piece of conversation.  “I always stuck to bench moves, but —“

“You know, I was thinking,” I said, interrupting him.  And then, just to be a tease, I took a long sip of my drink and made him wait.  “I’ve never actually fooled around with a guy.”

I squeezed his leg under the table.  Jared’s eyebrows shot towards the ceiling.

“I live pretty close…” Jared stammered out.

“I’d love to see the view.”

“You sure?” Jared asked.  “I’m not…”

“No,” I interrupted him again.  “But I am.”

We left the barely touched beers, along with some twenties on the table.

----------

Jared’s apartment wasn’t far — in fact, it was right upstairs.

It was hard to believe I was straight an hour ago.  Was I?  Or had I always been queer and that reel just jogged something loose in my mind?  I couldn’t tell, but… I also didn’t care.

All I wanted to do was rip Jared’s clothes right off him.

“Whoa,” the stopped me when I grabbed his collar and started to pull.  “This was expensive!  I can’t afford to buy you beers and have you wreck my clothes!”

“Sorry,” I apologized.  “I’m just… I’m excited…”

“Don’t apologize,” Jared teased.  “I’m gonna wreck you tonight.  Hey… whatever bathroom epiphany you had… I don’t suppose it told you if you’re into anal?”

“Uh… my dick just got hard,” I admitted.  “Harder.”

“Top?” Jared explored.  “Or a big ‘ol bottom?”

“Well… I’ve only been with girls,” I said, trying to put aside my horny thoughts for a second and use some kind of logic.  “So… like… top?”

“Sure you are, straight boy,” Jared poked fun at me.

He reached around and grabbed my ass, squeezing it while he pulled me close.  My heart beat fast as his body made contact.  I could feel his bulge, pressed right up against mine.

His hand slid down below my waistline and slipped inside my boxers.

“As long as you’re trying new things…?” he said lightly.  He put the tiniest bit of pressure on my hole and my knees buckled.  Oh my god… how did I not know…?

“I guess you’re a top,” Jared smirked.  “That’s cool, I can do either.”

Suddenly topping his ass wasn’t my favourite idea.  I mean… when my hole felt that good…

“Maybe… maybe I can too…?” I practically begged.  I wanted Jared to touch my hole like that again.  I wanted him to shove his cock inside it and make me scream.  “I mean… I should try, right?”

“Yeah,” Jared smiled approvingly.  “You should definitely try.”

I pulled my shirt off, loving the way new fabric felt against my bulky muscle.  I fumbled with my jeans and peeled them off.  Jared matched me, but he was so much more confident.

He probably did this all the time.  Standing there naked, while I was still in my boxers.

Jared stepped close and whispered in my ear.  “You want me to fuck that hole… dontcha?”

The last word turned to a growl.  I stripped out of my boxers as fast as I could — not easy when my cock was so hard.

The two of us stood chest to chest.  With a confident gesture of his chin, Jared led my gaze down to see his cock.

It was beautiful.  Big and solid and… fuck, it was a cock!

I froze at the sight of it.  Stared for a long few seconds, my heart pounding and my pulse racing.  Our bodies were so close… almost touching…

“Suck it,” Jared ordered.

Of course.  That’s exactly what I wanted to do.  I sank to my knees and started sucking like my life depended on it.  Like I’d been a cock hound for years, and this was the best dick I’d had all week.

“Oh fuck…” Jared moaned, grabbing at my curls.  “The straight boy thing’s gotta be an act…”

I moaned and tried to shake my head, but I don’t think it got across.  I wanted to say something, to correct him, but… he tasted so good!  I loved sucking cock!

Finally I managed to pull off and gasp for breath.

“Fuck me…” I begged.  “Fuck my straight ass…”

“Is that your kink?” Jared laughed, tossing me on his bed.  “Getting your straight ass flipped?”

He slapped my cheeks and spread them.  I felt his tongue first, then something cold and slippery, and then…

I pushed my hole against his cockhead and let my ass swallow it whole.

“So that top thing is just an act too,” Jared chuckled.  Honestly… maybe?  I was too full of cock to think.

He thrust into me over and over.  I lost all track of time.  I just wanted to ride the wave.  Find the rhythm.  Take as much as he’d give and beg for a little bit more.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growled in my ear.  “I’m gonna breed your straight fuckin’ hole, you hear that?  And when I do… you’re gonna be gay forever.  Does that turn you on straight boy?  Yeah, you like that?  Unf!”

I felt his cock spasm, pumping shot after shot into my hole.  When his load was gone, I squeezed my cheeks, desperate to milk out the last drops.

I would have been happy with that, but Jared rolled me over and jacked me off.  Fuck… I’d never had a handjob like that before.  He… he knew the equipment.

We both laid there breathing heavy.

“So tel me the truth,” Jared panted.  “The straight boy thing is an act?”

“Nope,” I said.  “Swear to god.  You’re the first guy I ever… anything.”

“Okay…” Jared grinned.  “What’d you think?”

“I think I’m a natural!”

----------

I was riding a high when I left Jared’s apartment.  My ass was full of hot bro cum… I couldn’t believe how good I felt.

For a second, I thought about going back to Monroe’s.  If hooking up was that easy… maybe I should do it again.  And again.  And again.  But… were Jared and I dating now?  Or at least friend with benefits?  What were the rules?

I had a lot of questions, and I wasn’t going to find answers at the bar.

“Hey bro, you up?” I texted Garrett.  His apartment wasn’t too far and I needed a friendly ear.

“yah,” he texted back.

“Can I come by your place?” I asked.  “I just had a weird night…”

“anytime bro,” Garrett answered.  “cum on by!!”

Garrett buzzed me up and was waiting at his door with a big grin.

“Damn girl,” he purred at me and gave me a big hug.  “Someone smells like sex!  Guess you saw the reels, huh?”

“You knew this was gonna happen,” I said as we walked into his apartment.  It should have sounded like an accusation, but it came out more like gratitude.

“Saw the way you were lookin’ at my bod,” he laughed.  “I knew you wanted it.”

“Yeah, well…” I flexed into a double bicep pose.  “You like what you see?”

“Yeah,”” Garrett grinned.  “I do.  You broke that cherry yet?”

“Yeah,” I said proudly.  “This guy who comes into my café.  He asked me out to a gay bar, but I was such a stupid straight dude I didn’t realize… but the algorithm got my back.  Showed me a reel while I was freaking out that… uh…”

“Yeah,” Garrett smirked.  “I know the one.”

“Sure, of course,” I laughed.  “Anyway, he just loaded my ass with cum, and now… I got questions.  Like, are we boyfriends?  Or exclusive?  Or… how do you know?”

“Well… I’ve never been exclusive,” Garrett shrugged.  “Not since I went gay.  Some guys are though, so communication is…”

My phone buzzed, so I didn’t hear the rest of whatever he said.  It was a DM from Jared.

“Just FYI”, he wrote, and shared a reel.

“Hold up,” I said.  “Coffee shop guy just sent me a reel.”

“Watch it,” Garrett offered.  “I’ll be back in a sec.”

The reel was this sex-positive influencer guy who sat on his couch in a jockstrap.  I mostly focussed on his muscle tits while he talked and talked and… fuck, some people were so full of themselves, y’know?

But whatever, he was hot.  And he was talking about sex, so…

“Gay social dynamics are different than straight dynamics,” he droned.  “Hookup culture is present in both situations, but in queer spaces it tends to be more accepted and frequent.”

“Oh this one,” Garrett groaned, handing me a glass of wine.  “You can probably fast forward… I think the good part is like… the last thirty seconds.”

But I watched the whole thing.  Dude was a smoke show.  Finally we got to ‘the good part’, as Garrett called it.

“Long story short,” he said, looking right into the camera.  “Some gay guys are monogamous, but unless you’ve actually talked about it, you’re good to be a total slut.  Most gay guys are.  It’s expected, and it’s cool.  Get on PrEP, get yourself some DoxyPEP, and go be a dumb slut, okay bro?”

Just like in the bar, I felt a wave go through my mind.

Be a dumb slut.

Okay bro.

“Bruh…” I said, staring at Garrett hopefully.  “Is that like… for real for real?”

Garrett laughed and grabbed his phone.  He tapped a bunch of buttons and handed it to me.  Oh shit… this was that grindr thingy!

“Pick someone,” Garrett said, unbuttoning my jeans.  He took my leaking cock in his mouth and sucked on it while I scrolled.  Jared was online, but… I didn’t want to fuck the same guy twice in a row!  I’m a better slut than that…

I laughed and took a sip of wine.  Fuck yeah… this gay thing was the best!

----------

I flicked on my ring light and stared at the camera.

“Hey girls,” I giggled into the light.  “I’m Peter Pecker, and this is… SLUT CODE!”

I was sitting on my couch in nothing but my neon green thong.  Ever since I’d quit the coffee shop and gone full time on my socials, I had to seriously cut back on my online shopping habit.  Credit card debt is no joke!  I only buy like… three pairs of underwear a week… MAX.

“So… like… as gay men, we all overcompensate, right?  You faked being straight for a long time, and now you think you gotta be the perfect gay!  Well guess what babe… you’re already perfect!”

That’s my brand.  I’m all about positivity, so long as you’ve got abs and a serious hookup addiction.  I was put on this earth to help gay men be their sluttiest selves, and I gotta say, I’m doin’ great!

“Today we’re talking highlights.  Like… I went blond last month, and do I look like a backstreet boy?  YES!  Do I regret it?  HELL NO!”

I went on like that for another thirty seconds, encouraging the guys who watch me to be their sluttiest and most flamboyant selves.  I don’t really get views, but someday…

I barely posted the reel when my phone buzzed with a notification.

Oh my god… I got my first subscriber.