So we’re on one of those long ass conference calls. You know the type. People talking in circles, ideas getting tossed around, everyone pretending this couldn’t have been an email. My stuff was already covered, so naturally I checked the fuck out.

Next thing I know, it goes quiet. That dangerous kind of quiet.

Then I hear duckie clear his throat.

Then my phone buzzes.

“talk!”

Fuck.

So like the dumbass kid who just got called on in class, I panic and go, “Uh yeah sorry, my audio was cutting out, can you repeat that?”

No idea who asked the question. No idea what the question even was. Just praying I can bullshit my way through it.

Turns out they’re talking about bringing in a bull to write guest pieces.

And instead of shutting the hell up, I go:

“…yeah, I know a guy.”

Of course I do.

So here’s where my life gets messy. One of the regular bulls my girlfriend brings into our bed is also a guy I work with in my boring, vanilla job. His name’s Brandon. Smart, funny, chill as hell… and yeah, the dude has serious big dick energy. Not fake confidence. Not loud confidence. Just that quiet, “I know exactly what I’m doing and you’re going to watch me do it” kind of presence.

And yeah… he backs it up. There’s a reason it’s called “big dick energy.”

I try real hard not to mix my kink life with work. I need that paycheck. That place is full of boring people doing boring shit, and I like keeping my humiliation separate from my health insurance.

But Brandon and I ran into each other outside of work one time, things escalated, and now he’s… part of the situation. I’ll get into that whole story another time.

So I bring this up to my fiancée.

She lights up immediately.

Of course she does.

She talks to Brandon, and I am very much not included in that conversation. They come back with “terms,” and when I say terms, I mean my life getting signed away in real time.

He joins FemdomU Magazine as a Guest Bull. Writes about his experience, helps other guys understand how to actually pull this off without looking like idiots.

In return?

I become his bitchboy.

Yeah.

He hands me his laundry at work. Next day, I bring it back clean, folded, perfect. Like some kind of domesticated little fucker who says “yes sir” in the break room. I clean his apartment while he’s got my girlfriend in his bed. At least once per article he writes.

So basically… more of the same shit, just now it’s official.

Honestly, I didn’t even argue. What the hell was I going to say? “No thanks, I’d prefer dignity?” That ship sailed years ago.

The upside? His first article drops Saturday in the evening edition, and I’m actually excited for it. The guy knows what he’s doing. He’s been in multiple cuckolding setups, he understands the balance, and yeah… that big dick energy translates into how he handles everything.

So if you’re into that dynamic, pay attention. You might actually learn something.

And me?

I’ll be folding his fucking laundry like the idiot who volunteered himself into this because he couldn’t stay quiet on a call.