A Fictional Story by JamieDuskbane1. Daniel loved his evening swims; they alleviated some of the stress of college and improved his sleep. There was just one problem, a small problem, a very small problem. As a result, he chose to swim late at night when the pool was empty – as close to closing time as possible. The lack of a bulge in his Speedos was embarrassing; but worse still was showering and changing afterward – by waiting to the
Read moreA Fictional Story by MinimusPuck. ‘Thou who have been found wanting! Thou who lack that most important of qualities a man must have to call himself a man!’ John couldn’t help but roll his eyes. This was all a bit too much. She’d been droning on like this since the LARP started, and his patience was beginning to wear thin. He’d only agreed to come to this because he wanted a second chance with Luna, the girl down the hall.
Read moreA Fictional Story by LilLapper1. There’s a specific kind of courage that comes from drinking at a work Christmas party. It’s not real courage—it’s a chemical override, a temporary suspension of the self-preservation instinct that normally keeps you from doing things you’ll regret for years. And I mean years. Not days, not weeks—years. The kind of regret that surfaces unbidden in the shower, in the car, in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon meeting when someone makes an offhand comment,
Read moreA Fictional Story by NewPersonality3459. I need to set the stage before I get to what happened, because without context it won’t make sense. Or maybe it will. Maybe the humiliation is universal enough that context doesn’t matter. But I need to explain it anyway, for me, because I’m still processing all of it. My name is — doesn’t matter. I’m forty-four years old. Married for sixteen years. Up until about three years ago, I was a normal man in
Read moreA Gay Fictional Story by captain144. Mr and Mrs Stroud, of 119, Laurel Lane, smiled smugly at each other as they took their seats in the half-full auditorium. This was the third weekend in a row that their son, Damien, had participated in the Regional Finals of the South Eastern Boxing Championship. He had sailed through the early rounds and had numerous bouts under his belt. As far as his parents were concerned, there was no chance that their “ickle
Read moreAn SPH Experience by rr0588. A couple of years ago, I got invited to a pool party at a friend’s apartment complex. He lived in one of those modern high-rises downtown, the kind with a rooftop pool overlooking the entire city skyline. It was supposed to be a chill afternoon—a bunch of people floating around, drinking, soaking up the sun. I was recently single at the time, fresh off a breakup that had left me feeling like shit about myself,
Read moreA Fictional SPH Story by limpshrimp83. The weather broke on a Tuesday. I don’t mean it got a little warmer. I mean it went from thirty degrees and frost on the windshield to seventy-eight and full sun in the space of about forty-eight hours, like the atmosphere had just gotten bored of winter and decided to skip spring entirely. The kind of heat that arrives with attitude, making you open every window in your apartment, stand in front of the
Read moreA Fictional Story by VaderSomething. Greece changes you. Not in the spiritual, eat-pray-love way that people talk about in essays about finding themselves abroad, but in smaller, more permanent ways—the way your skin holds the salt, the way your sense of time loosens, the way you stop caring about things that used to seem important. I spent two years working on the islands, and I can tell you that the version of me who arrived—cautious, self-conscious, measuring himself against invisible
Read moreA Fictional Story by Illustrious_Pen_7964. I keep my body shaved and not trimmed, not groomed, not manscaped—shaved. Every part of it. Chest, stomach, arms, legs, underarms. The works. I’ve been doing it for years, since I started competing, and at this point the routine is as automatic as brushing my teeth. Once a week I sit on the edge of the bathtub with a razor and a can of shaving cream, and I go over every surface, careful and methodical,
Read moreA Fictional Story by mywifeishot888. The hotel in Krakow had the kind of walls that were less walls and more suggestions. Decorative partitions. Polite illusions of privacy. I’d checked in the previous afternoon, dropped my bag on the bed, and heard the person in the next room unzip their suitcase clear as a bell. I’d heard someone two doors down sneeze. I’d heard a toilet flush on the floor above me. The building was old—pre-war, maybe older—and it had been
Read moreA Fictional Story by GretaLarkin. There have to be thirteen of them. Sigma Beta Chi has never known why. It is simply in the agreement, the way the date is in the agreement, the way it has been since the house on Lorimer Street was built. Thirteen pledges come over on the Friday before bid night. Not twelve. Not fourteen. If they cannot field thirteen, the chapter finds a thirteenth, and they always find him, and Odessa Fontaine has never
Read moreAn SPH Experience by Mammoth_Dare_2174. I need to tell this story. I’ve been turning it over in my head for months, and the memory won’t settle. It keeps resurfacing at the worst times—in the shower, at work, in bed when my husband is sleeping and I’m staring at the ceiling, replaying it frame by frame. The shame is still sharp. The arousal is still there underneath it, the way it always is, the way my body has been wired to
Read moreA Fictional Story by GretaLarkin. I changed the spreadsheet on the second Monday in March. It took four minutes. I opened the payroll file as I do every Monday, placed my cursor in the box next to my name, deleted “office help,” typed “Controller,” and hit save. Then I sat there a while with my hands in my lap. Nobody said a word about it for several days. Then Roger came into my office with the quarterly, stood in the
Read moreA Fictional Story by hardlyhanging11. The hot springs are an hour from my house, up a road that winds through hills that get browner and drier the higher you go. I’ve made the drive six times now. I know the potholes. I know the cattle guard that rattles my teeth. I know the point where the cell signal drops and the radio goes to static, and it’s just me, the road, and the anticipation building in my chest like a
Read moreA Fictional Story by anonymous2727. My name is Jimmy Lee, and today is my birthday. I usually don’t make a big deal about it, or even expect people to wish me a happy birthday; I’m more the type to lay low. However, after my terrible freshman year, I decided as a sophomore I would make an effort to fit in and be more outgoing. So I decided to throw a party and invite everyone I knew. I was super excited,
Read moreAn SPH Experience by NenGuten. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I need to get it out somewhere. This isn’t a fantasy. This isn’t a scenario I constructed for kicks. This is just my life, and the lives of probably a lot of guys like me, played out in small, humiliating increments across every public bathroom I’ve ever walked into. — Public bathrooms for men are designed by people who don’t have my problem. That’s the only
Read moreA Fictional Story by Quietoldie. My wife Jane is a stunner. I met her shortly after her first marriage ended. We met at a party at a mutual friend’s house. I was immediately drawn to her beauty and effervescent personality, even though she was sitting very close to another man. They were clearly an item, although neither was wearing a wedding ring. He kept touching her leg as they talked. I was captivated by her looks. She was showing a
Read moreAn SPH Experience by BigBobbigbob. I don’t talk about this one much. It’s not the kind of story you bring up at dinner. But it happened, and it stuck with me in a way I still don’t fully understand. Years later, I can close my eyes and see the fluorescent lights on the ceiling of that hospital ward, feel the cold air on my skin, and remember exactly how it felt to realize, far too late, that I was completely
Read moreA Fictional Story by ButtonBoy33. There’s a reason grey sweats have a reputation. You see the memes, the tweets, the jokes—always about guys who are packing, guys whose dicks are visible through the thin fabric, guys who wear them like a billboard. “Grey sweatpants season.” That’s the phrase. It’s supposed to be a compliment. A flex. A declaration. Nobody talks about what grey sweats do when you’re not packing. Nobody makes memes about that. But I can tell you from
Read moreA Fictional Story by HotWoman38. The gin was Nick’s punishment. That’s what we called it—his punishment for losing three rounds of “never have I ever” in a row. He’d been forced to admit he’d never cooked a meal for himself, never lasted more than a week without texting his mom, and never let a girl finish first. That last one earned a collective “ohhh” from everyone in the tub, and Nick’s face went red before he started loudly insisting it
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