Yāall Iām a sucker for the Viagra fics, but imagine that Robby, being a medical professional and not stupid, decided to opt for a low dose cialis first. He doesnāt pop a boner immediately, it just means that once the occasion arises, he can get a boner. Itās perfect.
What he doesnāt account for is that the second he sinks into Dennisā tight heat, he knows itās going to be over embarrassingly fast, because the pills do nothing to fight how age impacts stamina. So he tries to bite the inside of his cheek and think about mundane medical procedures, anything to not instantly blow his load.
But Dennis rolls his hips as he rides him and lets out these beautiful sounds and Robby is done for. His nails bite into Dennisā hips and he groans out āIām gonna cum. Iām sorry. Iām sorry. Iām gonna cum.ā
Dennis moans like heās just been deepthroated because āOh fuck thatās so hot.ā Robby spills inside him and Dennis is peppering his jaw in kisses while jerking his own cock muttering about how sexy it is that Robby couldnāt even hold out more than four minutes.
I see a lot of roachification and loserfication that centers on intox and weight gain/slob- both beautiful expressions of the genre- but iād like to present my own fixation in it.
Every male friendgroup has āthat one guyā... that one guy who canāt get a girlfriend. That one guy whoās terminally online in a way that makes him offputting to anyone who isnāt used to it. That one guy who hates parties, doesnāt drink or indulge with his friendsā¦ That one guy who just canāt seem to grow up all the way. Whoās stuck in his adolescence or his own head.
Sometimes these guys donāt even have a friendgroup- maybe theyāre just too weird, too isolated, too much of a loser to even be accepted into one. Or maybe he doesnāt even try- maybe he likes being alone, so no oneās watching all the stuff he gets up to and he can get away with all the ways heās failed to become a āreal manā.
You know the type- overgrown, shaggy hair that is never fully brushed through besides with his fingers, never wearing anything other than baggy cargo pants or sweats and oversized hoodies or anime t-shirts to hide his weak frame, bags under his eyes from long nights on his laptop and acne-riddled from his poor diet of shitty delivery food and energy drinks. An apartment full of comics and ecchi manga and fan posters and anime figures, never fully tidied, no matter how much or little he tries to keep it clean. He doesnāt care if itās embarrassing, to look or live the way he does- itās not like anyoneās going to see it anyway.
Heās not very good at being a person. Maybe before he transitioned he was never that good at being a girl. He was too awkward, not good at makeup or wearing the right clothes or liking the right things, for girls to ever be friends with him. And guys rejected him, too, on account of the fact that despite obviously being more of a boy than a girl he never really did anything, not play sports or try to socialize with them- he was always kind of just there, absorbed in his computer and the little world he maintained there. He was always a loser. And after he transitioned it just let him sink lower. His appearance deteriorated further as he started growing more stubble that he canāt be bothered to shave, he became even more of a shut-in as he entered college or the workforce and realized heād never had a chance to, and probably never would, be one of the guys even if he tried, and his sex drive- well. Thatās one of the hardest parts.
Heās not just a loser in how he presents himself or lives- heās a loser in how deeply, uncontrollably he thinks about sex, even though he knows heās never going to get it. He was already a freak, with plenty of intense or absurd fetishes girls shouldnāt ever have that he fixated on in the absence of company or connection- but as testosterone begins taking over his body, making him more sensitive and desperate, making him so uncontrollably horny that he can barely think of anything else, it starts to take over his life. If heās not scrolling on the computer or his phone, heās looking at porn and getting off, once, twice, seven times a day- not even just because heās horny, but because heās lonely. He has no other way to feel good. Niche fetish porn and increasingly sadistic and voyeuristic fantasies are all he has that can fill his day, and his body wants it so badly. And he knows he should be out there looking for someone who he can actually touch and feel, to be normal with- but at this point he doesnāt care. If he keeps himself in this constant cycle of pleasure and overstimulation he doesnāt need to think about anything else. He can just feel good, and forget how much of a loser heās truly become- maybe even revel in it, how testosterone turned him into this debased, loser-y guy who canāt control himself and just becomes more and more disheveled and guy-ish in the worst, most embarrassing way- experiencing some form of teenage puberty heād never gotten before.
Heās not happy, but heās at peace with it and he can at least fetishize it, how lonely and weird he is. But no man is an island. He meets someone, at his shitty minimum wage job that heās barely holding down, who for some reason takes an interest in him. Maybe this new guy thinks he seems like he just needs someone to get him out of his shell more, and show him how to have a good time. Maybe he feels like, being the only two trans guys around, he kind of has a responsibility to make sure theyāre buddies. Or maybe heās drawn to how pathetic he is, how clearly unable to integrate with other guys he is- and wants to exploit it.
This new friend starts giving him more attention, little by little. Saying hi to him when no one else around them does, asking how he is, even if he rarely gets more than a stare or a mumbled greeting in response as he doesnāt look up from his phone. Then, asking about his weekend as they work together and noticing how he never, ever has anything to say. And finally, once he keeps pushing, finding an in- maybe a shirt he wears with a band logo on it or spotting something on his phone, and heās able to see more about how this loser works.
āOh, youāre into them? Iāve seen a lot about them, do you like them a lot?ā
And he looks at the guy like he doesnāt even comprehend that someone would want to ask him anything about himself. Heās used to being ignored, and this guy- preppy, clean-cut, friendly and personable, successful in his transition, accepted by other guys and clearly wanted by the girls they work with- certainly has no reason to give him the time of day. But he responds with something that allows for more conversation than he has before, and slowly, as he feels more like this guy might genuinely want to talk to him and isnāt playing a joke, he warms up. No, more than warms up- he starts to become attached. And he doesnāt become attached like normal guys become attached to their friends- he starts becoming obsessed. He changes all his shifts just to make sure they always work together, is crushed when he calls out, canāt stop himself from openly staring at him when he interacts with other coworkers in jealousy. He stalks him online, finding everything about him that he can and saves as many photos as he can find into sprawling folders, like he does his porn, and looks at them when heās at home. Eventually he canāt stop himself from starting to jerk off while he looks at them, ashamed at how much better it feels than anything heās ever done before and how compulsive it begins to feel. He knows itās pathetic, and pervy, and gross- but how can he help it? He hasnāt had anyone pay attention to him in so long. He knows he doesnāt deserve it. If he canāt have anything else, at least he can have this.
His friend can tell how attached heās becoming with him. Heās a little creeped out, and uncomfortable with how clearly he wants him, without any sort of understanding of how to hide it from how long heās been alone- but at the same time he kind of likes encouraging it, to see how far he can push without him breaking down. He starts touching him lightly, moving him out of the way as he walks past with a hand on his back and feeling how he shivers and tenses up, or just looking at him as he stands outside with him on their lunchbreak while he chainsmokes and watching him shift and try to hide from his attention, like heās scared if his friend looks at him too long heāll figure out whatās going on in his head. And he starts teasing him. At first it was just some lighthearted ribbing, about how he should get out more, but the way he instantly gets red and nods makes him wonder what more he can get away with. He starts poking fun at how small he is- āyou should try wearing something that fits you, all that does is make you look tinier, I bet I could take you so easily, manā. And how much he stares- ājeez, why donāt you take a picture? Itās creepy when you stare like that.ā. How clearly pent up he is and how he needs to get laid, how much he needs a haircut or a shave so he doesnāt look so messy, how much he still has the interests of a teenage boy- anything becomes fair game because he can tell how much he likes it. Every time he just nods along and submits to the criticism with no argument, like he knows how much better his friend is than him, like he deserves it.
At some point his friend wants to hang out outside of work, not just sitting in their car after getting fast food on their break, and he asks to come over. Well, not really asks as much as tells- āI wanna see where you live, I bet itās really something. Make sure you donāt have any chopped up bodies in your fridge.ā He tells his friend that heās never had anyone over before, and his friend says itās all the more reason to come- he seems like he could use some guy time. He, as always, canāt say no to his only friend, and so he lets him drive him home after their shift- no time to prepare, to hide all his hentai and food trash and dirty clothes. Heās nervous as he lets him in, trying to hide some of the most embarrassing stuff before his friend can notice, but itās not enough- his entire apartment is already a testament to how far heās sunken into his own little world of porn and clutter and loserdom. His friend laughs when he looks around, and lets himself into his bedroom, where the bed (and everything else) is covered in books and discarded drink cans and laundry, either dirty or just never put away. His friend sits down on the bed and tells him to come here, so he does, because what else is he supposed to do? He apologizes for all the mess and his friend just smirks and says he wouldnāt have expected any better from a guy like him. He drags out his laptop and asks if thereās anything heād wanna watch- isnāt there a new episode of that cartoon he likes? And yes, there is, so he turns it on and tries to make space on the bed for both of them to sit as they watch it.
Slowly, his friend starts getting closer- first just letting their knees touch, and then leaning back with his arm positioned behind him, and then letting their sides press together. He keeps getting more and more nervous and wound up, knowing how much heās dreamed of this happening. And his friend notices. āDude, are you shaking?ā He tries to deny it, say heās just cold because of the fan, but his friend doesnāt let him slip out of it and reaches out to put a hand on his thigh. āWhat happens if I do this?ā He canāt help but spread his legs a little further and let his friendās hand fall down between them, his heart beating faster in his chest. His friend laughs and takes his hand away, instead reaching around to give him a squeeze. āYouāre so weird sometimes, man.ā He says nothing and tries to focus on the laptop screen. His friend doesnāt take his arm back.
They sit like that for a long time, talking a little, about work and what theyāre watching- before eventually he starts getting tired, from the heat of his friendās body and it getting late and the soothing presence of another person being in his bed, something heās never experienced before, and he starts sliding down against his pillow to lie down. His friend notices- āgetting tired already? I thought you were used to staying up all night, looking at anime titties or whateverā- and he rolls his eyes but doesnāt deny it, just says he wants to lie down because its more comfortable. āYou can be so lazy, man,ā but his friend admits that does sound like a good idea, and goes to recline next to him, propped up against the stained, flattened pillows.
His friend starts touching him again, just a little bit at first- rubbing his scawny bicep, playing with the strings on his hoodie absentmindedly, and then playing with the ends of his grown-out hair. Eventually he says, just to see what will happen- āyou know, youāre kind of cute up close. How have you never gotten laid?ā He looks at his friend, caught off guard, and he tries to stammer out something about not knowing or just never having gotten around to it, but his friend keeps pushing. āWhat, are you into some weird shit or something?ā When he sees how horrified and embarrassed his facial expression is he knows heās hit on something. āOh my god, you totally are. I should have guessed, honestly, just look at you.ā His friend's eyes rake over his body and his room. āJust look at how you live.ā He turns over to lie on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he looks at him. āitās kind of hot, how much of a loser you are.ā
He goes to hide his face, ashamed of how clearly his friend is seeing through him and how he kind of agrees, putting his face down into the bed. He just says, yeah, and tries his best not to get any more turned on than he already is from how his friend is teasing him and having his obvious failure confirmed to him. His friend, seizing the opportunity, nudges him so his knee is between his legs and pulls him closer, so heās trapped flush against his friendās body. āI bet you wouldnāt even be able to help yourself if I told you Iād give you something, even just a little. I already know youāre obsessed with me.ā His friend saying that causes him to start struggling to get free and deny it, but his friend just shoves his thigh up between his legs onto his dick and he canāt stop himself rutting against him without being able to control it. āItās okay, itās not like you were very good at hiding it. Itās like youāve never had a friend before. And look at you now, Iām not even touching you and youāre already so desperate.ā
The degradation just turns him on more and almost instinctively, like he always does when heās even the tiniest bit horny now after so many years spent compulsively masturbating, puts his hand down his pants and starts rubbing himself off. His friend laughs at him but doesnāt stop him, just puts a hand on the back of his neck and forces his face into his shoulder. Smelling his friendās sweat and deodorant and just the smell of boy overwhelms him and he keeps going, faster. āTell me how much you want this. Tell me why you deserve it.ā He starts speaking as much as he can between whining, about how much he wants his friend, how lonely heās been, how no oneās ever even touched him before and how embarrassed he is about how itās just too much, about how porn suddenly hasnāt been enough since he met him. And he says he doesnāt deserve him, that he knows heās just a perverted stalkery loser and heās lucky his friend even looks at him, how heās sorry heās so gross but it just feels so good. āYouāre right, you donāt deserve it. Guys like you deserve to be alone, thatās how you all are anyway, I knew it the moment I saw you. You could never be a real man, thatās why all you do is jack off and watch fucking anime all day. But I know you need this. Youāre never going to get it anywhere else, right?ā He says yes, not able to keep speaking as he sinks into the feeling of his hand on his dick, like he always does. āYou like me talking to you like this, donāt you? You know itās true, and you like it. Itās like you don't even know how to help yourself.ā
He really doesnāt; after spending so much time alone, without a single other person, he canāt even pretend to show restraint. He feels so disgusting and degenerate, like heās violating his friend just by showing him he can even want sex, like if heās so pathetic and failed so badly at being a normal man he doesnāt deserve it. But his friend lets him keep going, laughing and teasing him for how sensitive he is, and eventually he dips his hand into his boxers to feel his dick. āJesus, youāre getting so hard from this. It sucks youāre such a virgin, T got you really big. I know plenty of guys who would be able to do a lot with that.ā But you canāt, because youāre not a real man, is the implication, and feeling his friend run his fingers over him and test how he feels in his hand sends him over the edge. He starts to cry, just a little, tightening his legs around his and his friendās hands as his friend laughs, also just a little, like he's amused by the whole thing.
His friend rolls him over so heās laying on top of him, still shaking and with teartracks on his face. And he lets him lay there, basically ignoring him as he keeps sniffling and thanking him profusely and rubbing his cheek against his chest. He doesnāt say anything back for a long time, just watching the laptop, still playing, and checking his phone like it doesnāt even phase him how much he just rocked his world. āJesus Christ, chill out,ā he finally says. āI was just helping you out. I know youāre kind of an incel but you donāt need to be so lame, man.ā He tries his best to calm down and stop crying, like a guy losing his virginity on prom night- except heās in his twenties, and never went to prom because no one would look twice at him, and this was just his friend taking pity on him, or playing with him to see what would happen. He knows it doesnāt mean anythingā¦
Not right away, but over the next month or two- this becomes their routine. His friend riles him up all day, testing him and teasing him, and then drives him home and jerks him off or makes him go down on him (to teach him how to do it, since he wonāt learn it anywhere else) or just lets him hump his leg while they watch movies together, making fun of him for how he never gets less desperate, never gains any stamina or self control. It makes him feel pathetic, every time, knowing his friend is probably still out hooking up with other people and he just sits around waiting for him, never being invited out because his friend doesn't want to be seen with him even if he enjoys his company privately, that heās still weird looking and awkward and obviously inexperienced, and that all this is is his friend letting him blow off steam so that he hopefully will stop being so fucking weirdā¦ but that sense of being so embarrassing only makes him want it more. Eventually it turns into a sort of bargaining game- āyour room is a fucking waste site, if you pick up a little Iāll let you give me head,ā or, āput on a clean shirt for once and you can use my hand to jerk off while I watch TV, you smell too sweaty for me to focusā. He never actually asks him to do anything too productive- just enough to remind him of how inadequate he is and use it against him. And then, eventually, supplementing his directives with reinforcement, ruffling his hair and saying "attaboy" or "good job, see, that wasn't so hard, was it"?
Over time he canāt imagine his life any other way- being a cooler, stronger guyās experiment, someone who indulges him in his weird niche interests even as he makes fun of him for them, reveling in the ways his pathetic, lonely, geeky existence make him so different from his friend. How his friend allows him to be perversely obsessed with him, smelling his shirts and boxers and begging him not to leave even though he knows he doesnāt deserve it, knows heās so much lower than him. And even if itās embarrassing- even if he feels so small and humiliated, even more than he did before- heāll never be able to let it go. Because itās much more fun to be a failed man, a creep, a virgin or a perv when thereās someone there to see it but who wonāt ask him to change. He becomes a pathetic little pet loser, and he loves every second of it.
