The uniform clung to Gavin like a second skin, too tight in all the wrong places. The white shirt stretched across his chest, revealing the faint outline of his nipples and every twitch of muscle beneath. The polished brass buttons bulged at the seams, threatening to pop if he exhaled too hard. His black polyester pants were no better. Snug to the point of humiliation, the fabric molded to his thighs and pressed into his groin. But the worst part by far was the bow tie. It was a cheap, garish strip of synthetic fabric, fastened tightly at his throat and barely large enough to tie correctly. It perched there like an afterthought, making him look small and silly, a visible marker of his demotion.
Gavin adjusted it nervously, his gloved fingers fumbling as he tried to make it sit straight. But no effort could stop it from looking ridiculous, especially compared to the sleek silk neckties the other building residents wore. Their ties draped elegantly, knots thick and proud against crisp, starched collars. Neckties were the mark of men who led; men with Interpersonal Dominance Indexes over 65. Men with power. On the other hand, Bow ties were reserved for those who had failed to measure up, those with IDI scores of 65 and lower. Followers. Not men, just overgrown manboys.
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The morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Greg and Jim’s newly redecorated living room. Vintage leather armchairs, a teak record console, and shelves groaning under the weight of obscure vinyl had replaced the La-Z-Boy recliners, wide-screen TV, and photos of the middle-aged bear couple smiling in front of various landmarks. A fiddle-leaf fig stood in the corner, its glossy leaves throwing reflected light onto a battered mechanical typewriter sitting on a reclaimed wooden desk. Wedged between the keys was a thin placard that read “Words have weight.”
Jim stood in front of the antique full-length mirror, knotting a mustard-colored silk scarf over his too snug button down. The shirt, two sizes too small, clung to him for dear life and was perfectly suited for a man who wanted people to think it was an old favorite. Over it, he wore a tailored vest with a silver pocket watch and chain. Where he once spent the weekend in cargo shorts and t-shirts, he now excluded the kind of effortless chic that actually took considerable effort to achieve.
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Aaron stood in front of the full-length mirror, but his gaze wasn’t fixed on his reflection. Instead, he stared at the gleaming latex police uniform laid out on the bed behind him. The pieces were so perfectly arranged, each polished to a gleaming shine, reflecting the afternoon light streaming through the blinds.
It wasn’t just a uniform; it was a promise of change. Aaron’s heart pounded with the weight of what he was about to do. The air felt thick, charged with the raw energy of expectation, as if the uniform itself was watching him and waiting for him to surrender to its authority. Deep down, Aaron knew that once he started, there would be no going back.
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Dave’s thick fingers brushed against something unfamiliar, something rectangular, beneath Ed’s waistband as they cuddled on the sofa. Figuring it must’ve been part of the new gear Marc had brought over during their latest hookup, Dave ignored it and continued gently fondling Ed’s package. The bearish husbands had struck the jackpot when they invited Marc into their newly open relationship. Not only was he handsome, muscular, and perpetually horny, he was totally content to remain Dave and Ed’s side piece; a nonthreatening addition to their rock-solid marriage.
The gear was just icing on the cake. Dave and Ed were initially suspicious that Marc’s gifts of shiny, skintight fetish gear would come with strings attached, but Marc never asked for anything in return. All he cared about was that Dave and Ed wore them during their hookups. It took the middle-aged bears some getting used to, but before long, they’d incorporated the sleek Lycra bodysuits and rubber jockstraps into their sex life even when Marc wasn’t around. For the past week, they geared up after dinner, exploring each other’s bodies while binge watching bad TV. The Lycra suits clung to their stocky frames and reflected the light with a glossy sheen. It was a bit of sexy fun; something new and different to spice things up for the forty-something couple.
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Read chapter 1 of “The office dad” before reading on…
Hal rode the elevator to the fifth floor and approached the glass doors of his new office suite. They opened with a soft hiss, and Hal hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, immediately hit by the hum of activity. The sleek, modern space was just as intimidating as he’d feared—polished concrete floors, open workstations, giant monitors, and the steady click-clack of keyboards filled the air. This is their world, he thought. And I’m just visiting.
Hal tugged at his tight white dress shirt, feeling it ride up with his every step. The familiar pressure on his belly returned, his anxiety spiking. The shirt was pulled so taut that he feared it would give up any second. He tried to focus on the immediate task at hand—check in, find his way around, and get through the day without drawing too much attention to himself.
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Hal stood in front of the full-length mirror, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his white dress shirt. It clung to his belly, pulling tight enough that he feared the buttons might pop off at any moment. The fabric stretched over his chest, the small gaps between each button creating a thin, mocking line down the middle.
He hooked a finger into the collar and tugged, trying to give himself a bit of breathing room, but it was no use. Great, he thought, feeling the material dig into his neck. It wasn’t just tight—it felt like the shirt was slowly trying to strangle him. Hal let out a frustrated sigh and took a step back, inspecting the damage.
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I’d always loved the idea of having a dog. You know, a loyal companion, always happy to see you when you came home, who made you feel like the most important person in the world. So when I finally decided to adopt Rufus, a golden retriever puppy with the biggest, most soulful eyes I’d ever seen, I thought I was ready for all the joy and challenges that came with it.
Turns out, I wasn’t.
It was a crisp autumn afternoon, and I was at the local dog park a few blocks from my condo, clutching Rufus’ leash like my life depended on it. Which, at that moment, it did. Rufus was full of boundless energy, darting from one spot to another, a golden blur against the amber and orange leaves scattered on the ground. I stumbled behind him, my bulky frame not exactly built for sudden, erratic movement.
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I sat alone in my dimly lit apartment, the neon glow of the city outside flickering through my windows like a dying pulse. My fingers hovered over my phone, scrolling for the millionth time through the last few messages I’d received from Josh. Like a lovesick teenager, I reread every romantic exchange, trying to figure out what I’d done to turn him off.
Three dates, countless laughs, and then nothing. He vanished as if he never existed. It wasn’t like we were living out in the frontier sectors, where drones patrolled the streets, government agents monitored every breath, and disappearances were common. Josh and I hit it off like I never had with anyone before. Or so I thought.
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Tom adjusted his tie for the third time, feeling the stares of shoppers as he walked into a store ominously called Suburban Savers. His tailored suit, a navy blue ensemble that hugged his tall, slender frame perfectly, stood out against the casual attire of the other patrons. He was acutely aware of the sweat forming at the nape of his neck, threatening to stain the crisp white shirt he wore beneath his jacket. Cody, meanwhile, was already live streaming their entrance, his phone held up high to capture every moment. The younger man, dressed in trendy, casual clothes, exuded confidence and charisma. His messy blonde hair and impish grin made him seem approachable, unlike Tom’s polished and somewhat intimidating appearance.
“Hey everyone, we’re here at Suburban Savers with my new project. Say hi, Tom!” Cody said, turning the camera toward him.
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