Ken is an Asshole

Everyone says I’m an asshole. They’re right!

You’ve got to look after yourself in life. Nobody else is gonna do it for you. People like to hate on me because I understand how the world works.

It works for me. I’ve got money, I’ve got power, I’ve got all the friends I need.

One Friday I was yelling at my staff. Jenna had fucked up another order and she was gonna have to work late to fix it. Of course that bitch didn’t want to stay late on a Friday – ‘But Ken, I’ve got kids...’. Yeah, well, you chose to have ‘em.

I was throwing stuff into my briefcase when Gary walked in.

“Hey boss,” he said, giving me a friendly grin. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

“That’s none of your business,” I snarled. I wasn’t even really angry, but these guys are my employees, not my friends. You’ve got to keep them in line if you want them to respect you.

I slammed my office door and revved my car in the parking garage. Some idiot was walking across the driveway so I laid on the horn and swerved a little to scare them. People just don’t take responsibility for their own actions.

It’s a half-hour out to my house in the suburbs. I’ve got a beautiful home. Two acres of heaven. There’s a pool, a hammock, and a six car garage. Hate on me if you want, I’ve got it made.

There was a package waiting for me on the front steps. That idiot mailman couldn’t even find the mailbox.

I got inside and tore into the package. Someone had sent me a DVD. Who the hell even makes DVDs anymore? I glanced at the cover and chuckled – it was a photo of me at the pub, and the title read “Ken Morris: A Documentary”.

I flipped it over and glanced at the back. Someone had really done a job on it, writing up a whole fake description. There was even a bar code, like you could sell it at a store.

Ken Morris has it all – fast cars, a big house, and plenty of money. But what kind of legacy will Ken leave behind? Over the next hour we’ll explore Ken’s impact on the world by interviewing friends, family, and co-workers. After careful research and dozens of interviews we’ve landed on one inescapable truth – Ken Morris is an Asshole.

I snorted. It was actually pretty funny, even though it was trashing me. I took a picture of it with my phone before I tossed the DVD case into the trash.

‘Hey, check this out! They’re making movies about me now,’ I texted to my buddy Quinn. He runs a little ad agency across town. We’re competitors, but I’m winning. We get together for beers once a month. Nobody understands me like Quinn.

‘No way,’ he texted back. ‘Is it any good?’

‘I trashed it lol,’ I texted. ‘Like I’m gonna waste my time on that shit.’

‘Did you seriously throw it away?’ Quinn asked.

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone on the table. After a long week of wrangling employees and customers, I was ready to kick off my shoes and have a little ‘me’ time. I grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and carefully made my signature cocktail – an old fashioned, but the right way, with a sugar cube instead of that garbage simple syrup.

‘Bro... aren’t you curious?’ Quinn asked, the notification popping up as I took my first sip. I sighed and put down my drink.

‘Whatever Q, it’s probably just some B movie,’ I texted back. ‘It’s going to be Plan Nine From Outer Space or something, there’s no way someone actually made a DVD.’

‘You’re such a nerd,’ Quinn shot back. ‘I had to google that movie lol.’

‘I’m shocked someone photoshopped up a cover,’ I texted, ignoring his taunt. ‘It was good for a laugh.’

A couple of minutes went by, just me sitting in my easy chair and drinking my drink. The house has been quiet since Marissa left. She got a little money, but I’d done the prenup right and the house was still mine.

‘It’s your call bro,’ Quinn texted. ‘But I’d be hella curious.’

I ignored him and put on Top Gun instead. It’s one of my favourite movies – lots of action, lots of chicks. But Quinn’s last text was sticking with me, gnawing at me until I finally walked back into the kitchen and dug through the trash.

Lucky I still have a DVD player.

The movie started playing – there was no menu, no studio logo, nothing. A narrator with a deep voice started talking as the screen faded up from black.

“From an early age, Ken Morris knew he wanted to rule the world,” the narrator said. Holy shit – it was actually a movie about me. The footage was grainy camcorder footage, a young child playing in a back yard. I waved at the camera and laughed.

‘Dude, this is seriously weird,’ I texted Quinn. He didn’t answer. His wife is a stickler for keeping cell phones away from the supper table.

“He came from a privileged family,” the narrator said. “His father worked as an executive at a large corporation which left his mother free to stay home and raise the children. Along with his two brothers, Ken grew up in a suburban bubble of grassy yards and baseball games. Born in 1983, Ken’s upbringing was closer to the 1950’s ideal that still dominates the American dream.”

I watched myself, fascinated by the shaky camerawork – probably my Dad, even though I never remembered him being there. My fifth birthday party – a dozen children with cake smeared on their faces and stupid hats perched on their heads. An tee ball game where I got a home run, mostly because none of the other kids could throw or catch.

“But not everything was perfect,” the narrator said. “Ken could be a difficult child. Behind closed doors, his parents referred to him as ‘The Little Dictator’.”

“Hey!” I said, waving my hand at the TV. “Not cool. They never said that.”

“After a business degree at Harvard, success came rapidly,” the narrator continued. Now it was showing photos from my graduation, then my first day at work, then me standing in front of the new car I bought with my first big bonus.

“We always knew Ken was destined for great things,” my Mom said. Had someone actually interviewed my parents for this stupid prank?

“But despite Ken’s overwhelming success in life, one thing was clear to everyone. From his parents to his teachers to his supposed friends, everyone agrees – Ken Morris is a gigantic asshole.”

“Who the fuck made this?” I asked the empty room.

One of my employees appeared on screen. Chris, this annoying little bookkeeper who’s always telling me I’m not filing my receipts correctly. It’s like dude... I’m your boss, just shut up and deal with it.

“Yeah, Ken isn’t the greatest employer...” Chris said nervously, glancing at whoever was behind the camera. “He’s kind of demeaning. He’s always yelling and telling us to work faster, even though he pays most of us minimum wage.”

“You’re lucky to get that,” I snorted, taking a sip of my drink. The ice cube clinked against the side of the glass.

“And he always say we’re lucky to get minimum,” Chris said, shrugging at the camera. “He tells me to shave overtime off timecards, not to count it when people clock in before their shift, all that stuff. I mean... wage theft’s no joke, but I really need this job, you know? Sometimes I think about reporting him to the IRS but... there’s no accountability for these guys, you know?”

“You little shit,” I told the TV. “Bad news Chris, you’re getting fired on Monday. And screw your severance.”

I fumed at that for a minute, but soon enough we were onto the next interview. I barely recognized him – Jared and I had been roommates for one year in college. That fuckin’ flamer... he looked like he was living his gayest life. The guy had picked a light pink shirt for his interview, and I swear he was wearing makeup.

“I came out in my first year of college,” Jared was saying. Great, he was still fixated on how special he was, the little queer.

“How did Ken react?” the interviewer asked. It was the same voice as the narrator, but I still couldn’t place it.

“He was an asshole,” Jared shrugged. “He kept telling me that I was just doing it for attention, and he kept whining about ‘why do you always have to be talking about gay shit’, that sort of thing. And I’ll admit, I was eighteen and figuring myself out, but c’mon man.”

“And yet here we are,” I said to the TV. “Still talking about gay shit. Yeah, maybe I’m an asshole, but I was fuckin’ right, okay?”

My drink was empty, so I went back into the kitchen and poured a couple fingers worth of scotch while Jared prattled on. So what, I told him he couldn’t have guys in the room – it was weird, alright?

By the time I sat down they were interviewing my little brother. Andy, the fucking family failure. Of course they interviewed him at the gym – the meathead actually worked there. Counting reps for fat chicks, what a life.

“Yeah, I’m a couple years younger than him,” Andy was saying. “I know you’re supposed to look up to your big brother and everything, but he was a serious jerk to me. And I don’t mean the way brothers fight. I started going to the gym when I was fifteen, just to get away from him. Weekend practices with the football team, a different sport every season – man, I just wanted to be out of the house.”

“Did that work?” the interviewer asked.

“I mean, I got time away,” Andy sighed. “But then he started calling me ‘the meathead’. I don’t think he’s said my real name in a couple decades. And so what? I like sports. I like working out. He didn’t need to be such an asshole about it.”

I rolled my eyes and kept watching. Somehow they’d found Mrs. Kristoff, my third grade teacher. I was eight years old – what could she possibly have to say?

“Ken was a difficult child,” she said cautiously. “I don’t like to speak ill of the children I teach, but yes, he was very difficult. Very hard on the other children. We didn’t have the same sort of support in the classroom back then, but I suspect he had a superiority complex.”

“How did that manifest?” the interviewer asked.

“Well... I’m sorry, I don’t know that I should be talking about this,” she said. “He was just a child after all.”

“It’s okay,” the interviewer said. “I know it’s difficult to talk about, but this documentary is going to help people.”

Mrs. Kristoff breathed deeply.

“Kenny... he liked to tease the other children. Taunt them, really. He always targeted the kids who were having a bit more trouble picking up new concepts. Everything always came so easily to him, and I don’t know if Kenny understood how difficult school can be for some children.”

“What did he do?”

“He used to call some of the other children names. Make comments about them in front of the class. Kenny never got physical... he liked to hurt people with words.”

I took a long sip of my scotch. Fuck her. What did she know? She was probably making it up to get on TV.

I was angry, so of course they interviewed my ex-wife next. Marissa was looking hot, like always. And just like when we were married, she wouldn’t shut up.

“Yes, I could have married better,” Marissa was saying. “I was young, just out of college really. He was older... powerful, I guess. He’d made so much money already... once when we were dating he took me to Paris for the weekend. I didn’t understand him until later.”

“What do you mean?” the interviewer asked.

“Well... Ken’s a charming guy, when he wants something from you. But once you’re in his power it’s different. I was spending all day at the house in the country. Cooking, cleaning... I thought we’d hire some help, but Ken insisted that a woman’s job was to stay at home and take care of things.”

“Very 1950’s,” the interviewer observed.

“I think that’s how he saw it,” Marissa said. Tears were welling up in her eyes – she always knew how to cry on cue. “He thought it was classic, whatever that meant. To me, it was just lonely.”

The image on the TV shifted to a montage of scenes from my life. A slow panning shot of my company offices. Me kissing Marissa on our wedding day. Kids playing football on the quad at my college. Sparklers on a cake. My mother glowing as she held me in her arms.

“When we look at Ken’s life, we’re left wondering one important question,” the narrator said. “Was he always destined to become the worlds biggest asshole? Or could things have turned out differently? Given the chance, could Ken be living a better life? A more empathetic life?”

The screen was showing a clock now, ticking away the seconds.

“As our final question to each person, we asked if there was anything they would have changed. The answers they gave us were unique to their circumstances, but they carry a common theme – Ken Morris is a man shielded by privilege and circumstance. If he could learn to consider other viewpoints or pick up slightly different pieces of lived experience, perhaps things would have been different.”

The screen jumped back to my brother Andy. The meathead’s lips were pressed together wryly. Probably thinking about his next protein shake.

“Yeah... I do think Ken could have turned out differently. I wish he’d try things before mocking them. Take the gym for example, I invited him along a hundred different times, and each time he just called me names and laughed.”

“Do you think he would have become a gym rat like you?” the interviewer asked in his deep voice.

“I don’t know,” Andy shrugged. “I mean... maybe he would have liked the gym. We’re brothers, right? We’re supposed to have a lot in common.”

“Imagine, if you will, that Ken had been more open to the experience,” the narrator said as the scene cut away to an exterior shot of Andy’s gym. The edges of the screen glowed a soft pink colour, reminding me of a fantasy sequence from some ’90’s TV show.

I was watching myself at seventeen years old, in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, straining under a bench press. Andy stood over me, his hands poised to catch the bar if I couldn’t make it. He had a wide grin on his face, clearly in his element. I grunted hard and pushed the bar up for one last rep, slamming it back into the metal rack.

“Bro, did you see that!” I heard my young voice boom. “A hundred and thirty-five pounds bro! Full plates!”

“Yeah bro, that was awesome,” Andy grinned, giving me a fist bump as I sat up, clearly winded. My face was red and my shirt was covered in sweat.

“Ken would have kept up the routine,” the narrator said as the screen cut to an establishing shot of my college gym. “Once Ken started gaining some muscle, he was addicted.”

There was another shot of me at a squat rack, straining to stand with over two hundred pounds of weight on my back. This time I was dressed in a pair of sweats and a loose tanktop with the Harvard logo on it.

“And over the decades, day by day, Ken’s body would keep developing,” the narrator continued.

I was watching myself at the gym, about the same age I was now. Instead of my trim frame, the new me was massive. Big pecs that practically spilled out of a stringer tank. Glutes that pants couldn’t hide. Biceps that would bring the girls running.

“This is a road not taken,” the narrator said. “But what if we added more layers.”

“Ken was always very clever,” Mrs. Kristoff was saying. “But I do wish he understood how difficult learning was for some children. I’ve often wondered if his intelligence was a blessing or a curse.”

“In this alternate world, Ken would have understood the struggle,” the narrator said. We were back to the fuzzy pink border, watching me in my last year of high school. Eighteen years old and writing my final exams. I looked a little different – I’d always been a jeans and t-shirt guy, but in the documentary I was wearing a tanktop and gym shorts, clearly trying to show off my growing delts.

I remembered actually taking that exam. I hadn’t studied – I never studied in high school, everything was so easy. I’d co in less than ten minutes. I remembered because they kept insisting I had to wait until an hour had passed before I could leave.

But in the alternate world, I was struggling. Hunched over the desk, reading and re-reading each question by running my finger under the text. Chewing my lip and massaging my neck before cautiously putting pencil to paper.

“Ken wouldn’t get into Harvard, but the local state school would accept him – provided he agreed to play on their rugby team. With his growing interest in sports, Ken jumped at the change. He made it through college. Barely.”

A shot of me playing rugby, practicing late into the evening instead of attending lectures. I looked a lot more like Andy in these shots, my meaty body moving gracefully across the field. Another shot of me in the college weight room, working out with my team.

“But what would he graduate to?” the narrator asked.

The TV jumped to another interview.

“Ken’s a terrible boss,” my bookkeeper Chris was saying. “I just wish he understood what it was like to work a minimum wage job. Maybe he wouldn’t be such an asshole if he just understood what the rest of us are going through.”

“Leaving his glory days on the college team behind him, Ken would learn a harsh lesson in the real world,” the narrator said as the TV showed a video of me working at a grocery store, putting can after can of cat food on the shelf. “The attributes that make someone a campus king aren’t the same as those that lead to success in the workplace. Despite his work ethic in the gym, learning new skills would prove a challenge for Ken.”

The documentary cut to a shot of me at a coffee shop, getting handed my last paycheque and being shown the door. I was wearing an overly tight t-shirt, clearly meant to put my body on display... but that wasn’t enough. I was getting fired.

“Ken would find work more suited to him as the years went on,” the narrator said. “First working at a series of construction jobs, then finally landing a role unloading boxes at a warehouse. The pay would’t be much, but Ken would be relieved to finally find a job that matched his abilities."

I looked happy in jeans and a loose tank, my gym-built muscle flexing at the weight of box after box. It looked mind numbing... but in this weird fantasy there wasn’t much mind to numb.

“Would I change anything about Ken?” my college roommate asked, staring into the camera with wide eyes. “I mean... I just wish he could understand what it’s like to come out. The most popular jock on the rugby team... imagine if he was gay?”

Jared grinned at the thought.

“College would have gone a lot differently,” he grinned.

“What would Ken’s world look like if he was gay?” the narrator said with a low chuckle. “Obviously, visibly, just-can’t-hide-it, flamboyantly gay?”

The documentary was showing me a scene from college – me and Jared in our little dorm room.

“Uh... Kenny... I’ve got something to tell you,” Jared squeaked out on the screen. I was chilling on my bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, letting my heavy body relax. I was distracted, twitching my pecs, grinning every time I made them jump.

“What’s up bro?” I asked. My voice was deeper than it had been, but somehow higher pitched too. I recognized that whine... it was how Jared started talking after he came out. I always thought it was a total put-on, but there I was... doing it too.

“I... uh... shit, this is hard,” Jared said.

I sat up on my bed and stared straight into his eyes.

“Whatever it is buddy, I gotcha, you know that.”

“It’s just... um, Kenny, I’m gay!” he blurted.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” I said, jumping up and embracing him in a big hug. My beefy arms wrapped around his thin frame.

This whole documentary had gone completely off the rails.

I wondered how hard his cock must have been.

“You’re not mad?” Jared asked timidly.

“Mad? Bro? No way, I’m gay too!” I said to him. “Congrats on coming out! It’s not easy!”

“Yeah...” Jared said, the weight lifting off his shoulders. He couldn’t stop staring at my cartoon pecs.

“Let’s go celebrate,” I suggested. “I know this bar downtown that’s like... bro, it’s gonna blow your mind!”

“Wait... really?”

“Yeah, for sure buddy,” I grinned. “But before we go... maybe I can take care of that.”

The camera cut away right before his cock flopped out.

“Kenny would take Jared under his wing. After four years of college, the two men would move in together, continuing their open relationship as the years passed by.”

The documentary showed clip after clip of my alternate life. Jared and I marching in the pride parade together, my beefcake body naked except for a tiny rainbow thong. The two of us moving into a two-bedroom apartment, though we mostly slept in his room. And of course, lots of time in the gym, forcing his thin frame to swell with tight muscle.

“Despite working blue-collar jobs, Kenny never felt the need to hide his sexuality. Like many flamboyantly gay men, he couldn’t hide if he wanted to!” the narrator laughed.

The TV showed a scene of me at the warehouse, unloading boxes in a pair of white rugby shorts and a rainbow crop-top. My hair was streaked with blond highlights. I looked like a one-man pride parade, quickly approaching middle age.

And then they cut to my ex-wife again. I shook my head and stared at the TV. Nothing in this documentary made sense anymore.

“If I could change one thing about Ken, I think I’d want him to understand what it’s like,” Marissa said cautiously. “I don’t mean the divorce... I mean... I’d like him to understand what it’s like to have someone else expect so much from him. The cooking and the cleaning and everything else, you know? I think if he knew that, maybe he’d be less of an asshole.”

The documentary cut away from her, showing me in my twenties again, my athletic body stuffed into a pair of pink booty shorts and nothing else. I was in the kitchen, washing dishes while Jared sprawled on the couch in the background, watching something on TV.

“If Jared and Kenny had that sort of relationship, it would have started out casually,” the narrator said. “Kenny cooking and cleaning and doing laundry because he was so devoted to Jared. But once Jared understood how submissive Kenny truly was, he’d take full advantage of it.”

The picture faded as the years passed by. Now we were looking at footage of me wearing an apron. A silky white thong underneath. A white bow-tie wrapped around my neck.

“Jared would create a uniform and a list of chores for Kenny. Even after a long day at the grocery store or the warehouse, Kenny would be expected to wait on Jared hand and foot. After all... a bottom’s role is to serve.”

Another cut and I was watching Jared wrap his arms around me as I chopped vegetables. He groped my body like a toy until I finally laid down my knife and turned to wrap him in my muscular arms.

“You keep doin’ that and supper’s gonna be late,” I smirked.

“So we’ll eat late,” Jared grinned. He kissed me, then lifted off my apron and tugged me towards his bedroom.

The screen faded to black. I was sitting in my big empty house, surrounded by empty acres. My scotch was long emptied, the glass clenched tightly in my hand.

What the fuck was that?

Someone was trying to screw with me.

Whoever it was, they were getting inside my head.

‘Q, you there man?’ I texted. ‘That movie was seriously weird...’

Three dots. He was typing. It went away. Three dots. Nothing. Three dots...

‘I knew you couldn’t resist ;)’ Quinn texted.

Then another long pause while he typed.

‘Ready to make it real?’

‘huh?’

My phone rang. It was Quinn’s number.

“Did you like your movie?” he asked smugly. I could almost hear him smirking over the line. “Ten years we’ve been competing for clients and talent... and now you’re finally gonna be out of the picture. Are you ready?”

“Wait... no... no, what?” I said, honestly confused.

“It’s time for your new life... asshole.”

I felt a jolt of power rush through me. My body spasmed and I fell to the floor. I struggled to get up but I couldn’t get off my hands and knees. Electricity was arcing through my body, forcing my muscles to contract... to grow...

Holy shit... my body was growing. Getting heavier with every second. I went from a reasonably average looking guy to a bodybuilder. Two decades of hard work at the gym piled onto me. Bones cracked and reformed to accommodate my massive frame. A button popped off my shirt... then another, bouncing across the hardwood floor.

And I remembered it all. The long hours in the gym. The sweat. The adrenaline.

I gasped as my clothes started to cut off my air. Luckily for me my clothes chose that moment to shift and change too. A pair of bright pink rugby shorts and a white stringer tank. I felt the loose fabric brush against my over-sensitive skin. There wasn’t a trace of hair on my body anymore.

“What’s happening...” I gasped, reaching up with one hand and kneading a meaty pec. It was impossible... that movie... that was just special effects...

What was Quinn doing to me?

I tried to focus on solving the problem but my normally sharp mind wasn’t landing on a solution. Every time I tried to think about the problem my mind drifted away. Bro... it just... thinking is like... so boring. I’m not that smart... not like my little bro Andy. That dude’s so smart... he like, works at a gym and stuff, like a real coach! I just...

God I wish I worked at a gym... there’s so many hot dudes all the time. I moved my hand down from my pec and felt up my cock, big and heavy in my tiny little shorts. It even stuck out a little, peeking just above the waistband. That’s like... totally hot, right?

I struggled to my feet and stumbled into the bathroom. There was a big full length mirror and I looked so sexy... so fuckin’ hot and horny...

“Kenny, you there?” I heard someone call in the distance.

Huh? I was alone in the house... wasn’t I?

“Kenny? Where are you?” I heard Jared call again. I turned around and stepped through the bathroom doorway. But where was I? This wasn’t my house... my apartment... our apartment... yeah, we were in our apartment.

I stood in our tiny living room, one hand grabbing at my cock and another feeling up my pecs.

“Hey, there you are,” Jared said, giving me that charming grin he always give. He looked good – his tight body was packed into a pair of dress pants and a pale pink shirt. Jared’s really smart, he works in an office and stuff.

Just looking at his confident smile, I knew everything was going to be okay.

“What’s going on?” he asked, giving me a weird look. “Are you okay Kenny?”

“Huh? Yeah,” I said, giving my head a shake. Everything was so silly and foggy... I giggled just thinking how empty my head felt. “I just... I was watchin’ TV.”

Jared shook his head in disappointment.

“Kenny... you know you’re not supposed to watch TV. Not without permission.”

“I’m sorry sir,” I said automatically.

“Whatever you were watching... it looks like you enjoyed it,” Jared said, landing his hand on my fabric covered cock and wrapping his fingers around it.

“Uh... yeah,” I grinned. Truth be told, I couldn’t remember what I’d been watching.

“Okay... we’ll let it pass,” Jared said. “This time. We’ve got guests coming tonight, and I don’t have the time to cage you up. But you know the rules, when you’re at home you need to wear your uniform.”

“Right!” I said. That thought landed clearly. My uniform!

I rushed into my room and stripped off my clothes. My tanktop and shorts landed in the hamper. I slipped off my briefs and gave them a long sniff before I tossed them in too.

There were a stack of identical white thongs in my dresser drawer. I slipped one of them up my legs, careful to position my cock so it wouldn’t pop out when I got hard. Then I grabbed for my bow tie – it’s a clip on, I never figured out how to tie the real ones.

“Okay sir, I’m ready!” I said, stepping back out into the front room. Jared was just loosening his tie and taking off his shoes. I don’t take long to change.

“Good boy,” he said, giving me a gentle smile. “Now, we’ve got Mike and Otto coming over for supper. I think you’d better get cooking.”

I headed for our narrow kitchen on autopilot. Memories were flooding in – our little life in a rented apartment. How to make the perfect pan fried steak. The best way to flex my glutes when Jared railed my ass.

I caught my reflection in the microwave glass. Something was wrong. It was twisted and distorted. For just a second, I swear I saw someone else there. He had dark hair and hard features. He looked sad and angry.

But then I blinked and I was me again. Just a muscled up idiot. A piece of hunky beef. A uniformed houseboy, eager to serve his master.

I worked quickly, preparing supper and laying out cocktail ingredients.

I answered the door when they knocked.

“Hey boy,” Otto said, giving his husband a sideways glance. “Looking good tonight.”

“Thank you sir,” I said automatically. “I hit a new PR at the gym today!”

“Good for you Kenny,” Mike said, laying his hand on my chest. I liked the way he squeezed my muscle. I like the way men want me.

“Invite them in!” I heard Jared shout from the bathroom.

I invited Jared’s friends in and got them seated on our beat up couch. Mike ordered a mojito, while Otto asked for an old fashioned. Mike always wants a mojito, so I had it mostly prepared. Otto’s cocktail took a little longer, but it’s just whiskey, bitters, simple syrup, and some garnishes. They were sipping drinks before Jared stepped out of the bathroom.

“Hey guys,” he said, still drying off his hair. “Sorry, I’m running late. Sometimes I just need to wash the office right off me.”

“For sure,” Mike said, sipping his drink and sighing.

“Take your time,” Otto said, glancing at me. “The boy’s got us handled.”

Mike rolled his eyes. Otto liked calling me the boy. And I liked when he did it. I feel so hot and sexy when men treat me like that.

“Come on Kenny, why don’t you sit down for a minute,” Mike invited. He patted a spot on the couch between him and Otto. I washed my hands and ran over to sit.

“Thanks guys,” I said, barely fitting between them. I guess they could have moved, but I liked the way their skin pressed against mine. Otto didn’t waste any time, squeezing my delt and running his hand down my thick bicep.

“What about you Kenny,” Mike asked as he rubbed the back of my neck. It felt really good.

“Huh?”

“Do you need to shower after work?”

“Oh, I work in a warehouse,” I shrugged. “But yeah... I shower after the gym.”

“I guess there’s not a lot of stress in your job,” Otto said. He was lingering on my arm, though his other hand was brushing across my abs. I had a washboard back in my twenties, but I’m in my late 30’s now bro... abs are fuckin’ hard.

“I mean... sometimes we’ve gotta load a truck really fast,” I said, trying to relate. To be totally honest, I didn’t have much in common with Jared’s friends. They were all worried about jobs and money and stuff like that. Jared handled all that for me.

“I see you found some entertainment,” Jared chuckled from behind us. He was coming out of the bedroom, looking super hot in a pair of slacks and a simple pink t-shirt. My attention was immediately on him.

“You don’t mind, right?” Otto said playfully.

“Not unless Kenny does,” Jared laughed.

“I like it!” I grinned. We had that in common at least.

“Good boy,” Jared said, sending my heart soaring. “But for now... go finish up supper, okay?”

I spent the next hour cooking while Jared chatted with Mike and Otto. Otto asked if I needed any help a couple times, but I told him I was good. I’ve let Otto help before and he always distracts me.

The hours flew by. Everyone complimented me on supper, then Otto helped me do dishes. I don’t mind that he grabs my ass during dishes. I do a lot of squats – it’s good to be appreciated.

“Goodnight Kenny,” Mike said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, goodnight boy,” Otto grinned, planting a long kiss on my lips. He tweaked my nipple and I felt my cock jump. Otto and I both know we’re gonna hook up sometime. Hell, if Mike wants in we’ll make it a threesome.

“Let’s go to bed, k?” Jared said. “I wanna fuck that ass...”

“Mmmm... I want your cock inside me,” I moaned, closing the door softly and wondering if any of the neighbours heard. I hoped so.

I took a few minutes first, ducking into the bathroom and scrubbing off my makeup. It takes a lot of effort to look this good.

Jared was waiting in his room. I pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it in the hamper. That was getting full... I’d have to do laundry tomorrow.

But in the moment, I just wanted to get his cock free. A minute later I had his slacks on the ground and his cock in my mouth. He was already rock hard. I know he likes the way Otto drools over me. It’s like foreplay for him.

I needed to slip my thong off next – my cock was so hard and I wanted to show it off. Now I was totally naked, except for the bowtie around my neck.

Jared laid me back onto the bed, nibbling on my ear and running his hands over my body. His lips pressed against mine. He knew exactly how to kiss me – long, firm, and with a lot of groping.

He raised my legs over his shoulders and lined his cock up against my hole. With almost twenty years of practice, I knew exactly how to take it how he liked it. I relaxed and pushed just a little as I slid down his pole. He liked me to moan about halfway down. And boy... I needed that moan.

“Yeah...” I panted. “Please fuck me sir!”

He planted his hands on my big pecs and squeezed them while he rode my ass.

“Yeah, is that what you want,” he grinned, his muscles loosening as he relaxed. “You’re such a fuckin’ stud, you know that boy?”

“Mmmm... this is so hot bro...” I moaned as he pulled out. “It’s like... so hot!”

Jared chuckled. I’m no poet, but he knows what I mean.

“You’re so dumb,” Jared said affectionately, thrusting back inside my hole. “Good thing you’re hot, huh boy?”

“Yeah,” I groaned, loving the way his cock tore me apart. “I’m so fuckin’ hot...”

There was a thought pushing its way into my head, penetrating me the same way Jared’s cock forced its way into my hole.

“I’m an asshole,” I gasped as my cock started to twitch. I didn’t know where the words came from but I had to say it. Something about that thought was turning me on so much. I was almost there.

“Yeah,” Jared said, breathing heavy. “I love your slutty hole. I love your beefy bod. I love your empty head...”

“Bro,” I moaned. “How’d I get this lucky?”

He flooded me with cum.