Doug Deeson's musings

  “Dude,” he said, “I’m straight.” “He” was Mike, we’d met in a chat room and hit it off.   It was a fitness chat room, guys would meet to discuss work out plans, plateau resolutions, diet, supplements and just anything fitness related. He lived close to me, and we even worked out at the same gym from time to time, it turned out. After a few weeks of back and forth we met for coffee and there was something there. You know that feeling, there’s an instant connection, heat, just something in his eyes, his scent and you know it will be hot.   The conversation flowed easily. There was lots of laughter, some touching, hands brushing against each other on the small café table. At one point his hand rested on my forearm. It was electric. Nothing happened that afternoon, just a new friend that was a good connection. One thing. One solo little thing, his profile on the chat room indicated that he was straight. Now, I’m not one of those gay guys that fantasizes about turnin...

You stand, dressed in jeans, bare feet, a buttoned shirt, open at the collar. Your head is down, looking at your feet. Hands held behind your back, clasped together.  You’re nervous and shift slightly on your feet but you don’t look up. “Greet me,” I tell you. “Good morning, Doug.” You reply head still bowed. “How do you address me.” I say after a pause. “Good morning, sir.” You speak again. “Good boy,” I tell you. I toss several markers, sharpies, to the floor at your feet. “Remove your shirt.   And pick up the blue marker.” “Yes sir,” and you slowly unbutton your shirt. Head remains down.   You pull the shirt off and drop it to the floor. You then bend to pick up the indicated marker.   “Do your best and write ‘OWNED’ across your upper chest.   Use a mirror if you need to, you may look up while doing so.” You step to a mirror and struggle to write OWNED on your chest from right to left.    The letters are sloppy but legible. ...