Cocky straight guy becomes a twink trophy boyfriend
He spots her across the living room before anyone else really registers she’s arrived. New face, effortless confidence—his kind of challenge. He takes a second, smooths his shirt, then crosses the room like he already knows how this ends.
“Hey,” he says, easy smile, leaning just enough to feel close without crowding. “You look like you’re deciding whether this party’s worth staying at.”
She glances at him, amused but unreadable.
“I was,” she says. “Still am.”
He chuckles, unfazed. “Give me five minutes. I’ll make it worth it.”
She tilts her head. “You always open like that?”
“Only when I’m right.”
“Confident.”
“Usually rewarded for it.”
“Usually,” she echoes.
He grins, holding eye contact. “Stick around. You’ll see.”
She doesn’t answer. Just watches him, an amused smirk forming on her face. Jake returns the smirk- god she was hot. He couldn't wait to make her...
“Not my type.”
That actually lands. Jake blinks, thrown off, but only for a second. His smile returns quick, “Alright, maybe I started off wrong. Name’s Jake.”
“Lena.”
“So what is your type?”
Her eyes travel over him, slower this time. “Bulky guys aren’t really my thing.”
Jake scoffs, rolling his shoulders. “How can you not be into muscles?”
He flexes his arm, showing off muscle that no woman could resist. Only the peak isn’t as full, the sleeve of his shirt hanging just a bit looser than it did a minute ago. He catches it, but maintains the smile. Figures the lighting is off.
She looks at him, unimpressed, “I said what I said.”
He smirks, leaning closer. “I’m more than just muscle, you know.”
“Mhmm... Doubt that.”
"Yeah?” he smirks, "Give me a chance and I'll prove you wrong." He readjusts his shirt, barely registering how it no longer clings tightly to his chest.
“I'm good." She shrugs, "All that body hair isn't winning you any prizes with me."
Jake huffs a laugh. “What? C’mon! That’s what makes me a real man.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing down as he casually drags his thumb along his forearm- then pauses.
The dark hair there looks… lighter. Thinner. He rubs again against increasingly smoother skin.
“That's... that doesn't make sense.” he mutters, forcing a grin, though his fingers linger.
His other hand comes up, brushing his jaw. He paused. His usual rough stubble is... gone. Like he just shaved. His confidence flickers and he feels a cold shiver run through him as his chest prickles under his shirt.
Jake straightens abruptly. “Woah that's not...” Lena is smiling, a predatory look in her eye, "I... wait here, I'll be right back" He chuckles, nervously- mind racing. He needed a mirror. Just to check. To confirm.
He takes a half step back. Lena leans in just slightly, smiling.
“No, stay,” Her voice lifts. “I’m enjoying our little conversation.” She runs a hand along his smooth jaw, "Please." Jake feels his heart flutter, "Just relax, tough guy."
Jake grunts as the tension drains out of him. He should be on edge. He was on edge. But he feels his posture soften, weight shifting onto one leg, hips angling slightly without permission. His stance opens up. Less guarded, more… inviting.
“Wh-what?”
His lower back arches subtly as he shifts. His stance now blatantly emphasizing his ass. Jake stiffens at that, registering just how exactly he looked standing there.
“No way...” he mutters, trying and failing to address his stance, "I look so..."
He tries to square himself again. To stand with the same commanding presence he usually did. But the adjustment slips, settling back into that same relaxed pose. His ass jutting out, begging for attention.
“You did ask me what my type was." Jake's eyes widen as he realizes he's standing at eye level with Lena now, "But it's so much more than the physical. I like guys who know how to be vulnerable."
Jake swallows, “I mean... yeah, I can be vulnerable,” he says, but it comes out softer, less certain. His shoulders pull in as he talks, frame narrowing further, “It’s just, like... I don’t usually say this stuff out loud, I just kinda… push it down, you know? Be a man about it...” He freezes, “Why am I saying this?” His voice jumps... higher. Whinier.
Lena smiles, "It's okay to open up, Jake."
Jake’s hand flies to his throat. “Okay, no... like why does my voice sound like this? This's not... like, not my voice.” It spikes again, edging toward a whine.
"Jake?" He recognizes that voice, "Dude, what the fuck?"
“Brett!” Jake blurts, cringing at the pitch of his voice, but relief floods in anyway. “Oh my god... thank god you noticed! Something’s like… totally wrong!”
Brett steps in close, brow furrowed. “What happened to you, man?”
“I don’t know!” Jake says quickly, voice light and uneven. “She just, like... started saying stuff and now I’m...”
A sharp snap. Brett goes still. His expression melts, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack. Drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Jake stares, “What? Brett?”
He grabs Brett’s arm instinctively and pauses. His fingers press into Brett’s bicep, lingering a second too long. There’s a flicker of something... appreciation?
Jake jerks his hand back and spins towards Lena, “Like, what did you do to him?!”
Lena barely glances at Brett. “Don’t worry about him,” she says smoothly. “Focus on something more fun. Like gossip… or cute guys.”
Jake tries to hold onto his panic, but her voice threads through it, steady and impossible to ignore. His thoughts begin to blur at the edges, like something is quietly wiping them clean, and before he can latch onto what he’s losing, new ones slip in—lighter, easier, strangely compelling. He finds himself wondering who’s attractive, who gets attention, who deserves it.
Behind him, Lena leans toward Brett, whispering into his ear. Jake turns without meaning to... and this time, he really looks. The line of Brett’s arms, the way his shirt fits across his chest, the way his slacked jaw and dim eyes look.
“Oh wow.” Jake’s breath slows and he licks his lips.
He'd seen Brett in the locker room after games. Knew what he was packing. He never thought much about that. But now? God... he wanted it now. He wanted Brett.
“Now you’re more my type,” Lena looks over Jake carefully, satisfied. “But I doubt I’m yours.”
Jake blinks, still looking at Brett, something warm and fluttery settling in his chest. He lets out a soft, airy laugh, barely even thinking about it.
“Yeah, I mean… like… no offense, but… yeah.” He winces slightly at how natural that felt.
Lena smiles. “So tell me... what is your type?”
Jake doesn’t hesitate this time. He glances back at Brett, eyes lingering, a small, giddy smile slipping through. “I mean… Brett,” he says, almost giggling. “Obviously.”
"He's kinda cute."
“Kinda? Bitch, he's hot." Jake can't believe the words leaving his mouth, but they don't stop, "So like... we're..."
"Besties." Lena grins, "I needed a new gay bestie anyway." She looks over at Brett and snaps her fingers, "And what are besties for?"
Brett's face contorts and settles. The dull look in his eyes shifting as he looks over Jake. Replaced by something hungrier. Jake watches as Brett steps closer, slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on Jake.
“Hey,” he says quietly, voice lower than Jake remembers. “You look… different.”
Jake giggles, “Different good, right?”
Brett’s hand comes up, hesitating just a second before brushing along Jake’s waist. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Really good.”
Jake inhales sharply, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans, eyes flicking up through his lashes.
“Wow, okay…” he says, half-giggling. “You’re, like, being really forward right now.”
Brett smirks faintly, closing the space between them. “You don’t seem to mind.”
Jake bites his lip, heat rushing to his face. “I mean… I don't.”
“My room’s just upstairs,” Brett murmurs, leaning in slightly. “You wanna check it out?”
Jake lets out a soft, breathy laugh, glancing back at Lena for half a second before looking up at Brett again. “I mean… yeah,” he says, voice light and a little giddy, fingers brushing Brett’s arm. “Lead the way.”
Lena watches for a beat, satisfied, “Have fun, you two!”
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Jake moans loudly as Brett slams into him from behind. He arches his back, pushing his fat ass further along Brett's length. His own cock, smaller than he remembered it being, throbbing uselessly. But he doesn't care. Not when he can feel Brett balls deep inside him.
"Fuck yes," Jake gasps out, hands fisting in the sheets beneath him. "Harder, Brett. Fuck me harder." Brett grunts, gripping Jake's hips as he picks up the pace, "Oh fuck!"
Jake couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy each time Brett bottomed out. The same kinda sounds he imagined Lena making if the night had gone differently. But now? His world was narrowing, focused only on the feeling of the dick pounding into his thicc, juicy ass. Because for Jake, nothing else mattered in this moment - not his pride, not his former identity. And it never would again.
