Fags are disgusting and Connor hates them all! There is no doubt in his mind. But when this raging homophobe finds himself forced to move in with another hunky mechanic, he has no idea that he is about to slowly, but surely, become what he despises the most!
This is a pure work of fiction.
This story does not reflect the views of its author. I do not endorse the actions depicted in this story in real life. All characters featured are above 18. Enjoy!
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FROM HOMOPHOBE TO HOMO
Chapter 3: The new assistant
Robbie drove me to work that day. He insisted that no matter how shitty I was feeling, I could not lose my job on top of everything else. Of course, he was right.
He had lent me some clothes; they were too tight for me but I could hardly complain. The few things I had left (a white tank top and a pair of jeans) were drying off and I had basically lost everything else.
The more the reality I was in was sinking into my brain, the more I was feeling like shit. No apartment. No car. No clothes. Nothing, except for more debts.
On our way to work, Robbie tried to reassure me:
"Really, I feel so bad for you, bro. That takes a fucking man to go through what you did in the past 24 hours. But like I told you, I won't let you down, ok? I'm here. Maybe you can see that as a fresh start, you know? I'll be here to help you get back up on your feet and in a few months, this whole thing will be behind you."
I nodded yes.
I certainly did not appreciate what Robbie had made me do that morning but he was the only one I could count on, at this point. I had literally no idea where I would go if he kicked me out of his place.
I could hit some girl up for sure but staying at her place, she would be expecting marriage and kids and I definitely did not have any time for this bullshit, there were too many pussies to fuck in New-York City before settling down.
"In front of the guys, can we not give them, like all the details? I don't want them to think I'm having problems or some shit like that."
I still had my pride.
Well, not so much with Robbie who had seen me with my own cum on my face, and then breaking down like a pussy in his arms, and then showing off my dick and ass to a fag, but to our colleagues, at least, I wanted to keep up the appearances.
"Of course, dude! They don't have to know anything, you're still the king in here!" Robbie spoke.
I was. At the garage, everyone knew that I was the Alpha of the group.
I was hoping they would not notice I was wearing clothes too small for my size, including a pair of underwear which were sliding into my ass crack and felt like a freaking thong.
Thankfully, we were about to change in our blue overalls anyways.
"Here's the new hit couple in town!" Oliver teased as we walked in.
"What is this about?" The Chief mumbled, he was already covered with grease and soot.
Our boss was a 50 years old Italian man called Giuseppe Mancini but when talking to him, we would always address him as the Chief. He was a good man, just a bit too uptight on the rules. Like, he would make a fuss if I would arrive ten minutes late.
I fist-bumped everyone, including the Chief, and explained casually:
"My landlord kicked me out and Robbie is letting me crash at his place for a few weeks."
I purposely mentioned a "few weeks" even though it had not been officially agreed on with Robbie. He had to get used to the idea, I would need at least that time to get my shit together.
"Good. Solidarity between colleagues. I like that." The Chief commented.
"Your new roommate is not too much of a pain in the ass?" Eric asked Robbie.
"No. He's great, he even prepares breakfast for me in the morning."
"What?" I first said, surprised.
Then seeing Robbie's face and thinking of what else he could have said, - way worse things -, I just confirmed.
"Oh yeah, I did prepare some pancakes this morning. Least that I can do..."
The day at the garage was pretty uneventful but I had troubles focusing on the tasks at hand, millions of thoughts were racing in my head.
The situation itself was difficult to handle but the worst part was the hit this whole thing could give to my reputation.
Who would respect a guy who did not have his own place, his own car, who was forced to rely on a younger colleague? How could I fuck girls whom I would bring back to a couch where I was crashing at a co-worker's place? I mean, they would still come, I am hot as fuck but that was really not ideal...
A couple of times, I noticed that Robbie was going to the toilets for quite a long time. He would come out while typing on his phone. He was probably sending nasty stuff to faggots.
How many hundreds of dollars was he making that day? I thought about what I had to do for his neighbour a few hours earlier. It was bad but I survived it.
Maybe I could do what Robbie did? If you asked me, I was even fitter than him.
If a faggot wanted me to insult him, I may have been up for the job.
I would have to talk it through with Robbie, to put certain limits, maybe not to show my face on any of the videos but I started to really consider it. I needed the money.
"What's that?" Oliver asked, pointing at my knee when I changed back into my, well Robbie's, shorts at the end of the shift.
"Nothing. A dog tried to bite me."
"Wow, just like that, in the streets?"
"Yeah." Robbie confirmed.
Shit, I had not seen him arriving behind me. Please God, do not make him say that it was a freaking chihuahua!
"Connor was super quick with his moves though; the dog could have ripped out his leg!"
"Just had to give it a serious kick." I confirmed, relieved of the version of the story given by Robbie.
"In for a few drinks, guys?" Oliver proposed.
"No, we are going to get back directly to my place." Robbie said.
I could have used a drink but I had more pressing matters to attend than spending my money in bars. And apparently, Robbie had made the decision for the both of us anyway. He was the driver after all.
"Yeah, I have some stuff to do to search for a new place." I added.
Oliver looked a bit disappointed but he was already opening Tinder, looking for matches. I could have used a good cunt as well.
Sex would get my mind off of things. Maybe I could hit Samira up. That Arab bitch loved to take it in the ass, my full nine inches, my balls tapping against her juicy bum.
One day, she had let me piss on her too, the kind of filthy shit I like to do to sluts.
But Robbie had decided we would go back to his apartment, we needed to set up "my new room" and I thought it would be a good opportunity to talk about my idea to get some money. I was still on the fence about it though.
Back at his place, Robbie took off his clothes as usual and we ordered some pizzas. It was cheat day.
"I guess I'll pay for this one." He spoke, getting his wallet.
"About that, dude. I do intend to make some money, you know. I cannot stay like this."
"Sure. I know. And I think that I figured something for you."
"Really?"
"Come sit."
He invited me to sit next to him on the couch. He had just taken his sneakers off and his feet were smelling like cheese but now that I had seen how upset he could get, I knew better than to say that to his face.
I also needed his advice to get on with the "draining fags' bank accounts" business.
"I've been thinking too." I said while I sat down.
"Good. You are aware of what I do to get some real money now."
"Sure."
So, we had been thinking the same thing, I thought.
"Well, I've been going over this and I think I am at a point where I make enough cash so you can have a share of my benefits."
"That's good to hear, bro." I replied. "But what do you mean, a share?"
"Dude, you are uncomfortable with gay guys and I don't want to push you. The job I do, it's hard. I may have made it look easy to you yesterday, but you do have to spend a lot of times chatting with those guys. You have to understand them, their kinks, and once you have created the connection, you have to give them exactly what they want."
I cringed at the idea of pleasing fags.
"When they cannot get enough of you, it's the jackpot. You're like their drug and you can drain them until they're broke."
He was scratching his balls through his boxers while talking.
"I guess I have not realized this... But how do you chat with pervs like that? How do you get them addicted?"
"It's more psychological than anything else. You have to respect them, to get them."
"Respecting fags?"
I was flabbergasted. I always thought Robbie and I were on the same page regarding guys who would take it in the ass. We would always tease the sissies in the streets and mocked Oliver for attending the gay pride with his brother.
Robbie laughed at my remark.
"Yeah. Well. At least sufficiently to get into their minds. But as I said, it requires a lot of time and a certain touch. Frankly, I don't think you could do it, even if you wanted to."
I sighed.
"Why are you bringing it up, then?"
"Because! I can do it and I do it so fucking well that sometimes, it is hard for me to keep up with everything. I would need some kind of assistant."
"An assistant? To do what, oiled up your chest?" I joked.
Or at least, I thought I was joking.
"Well, yeah." Responding to my quizzical face, he continued. "I mean, there are a lot of things I have to do, respond to messages, record videos, send them, I also sell some dirty underwear and socks. There's a whole logistic to that and I was thinking an assistant could help me out and well... that could be you!"
"Fuck man. Assistant. That just sounds like such a girly job..."
"I mean, it is only if you want to, man. But I'm not going to pay for your food and rent every day for the rest of our lives. Just helping me managing my time with doing daily tasks for me would be super helpful."