StoriesByTroy

Might happen soon

Becca, my sister found me doing Zumba in the living room. Again. “Why are you always halfway sweating when I walk in here?” she called from the kitchen, digging a spoon into a jar of peanut butter. I was in a tshirt, dripping in sweat, black gym shorts dangerously low, trying to keep up with this overexcited Australian woman on YouTube screaming about hip rolls and pelvic engagement. Yeah, I gotta sculpt my butt if I want two hot men drooling over it. “I live here too,” I panted,

I barely slept. By the time my alarm buzzed, I had been lying in bed for hours, eyes fixed on the ceiling, sheets tangled around my legs. My suitcase sat zipped in the corner. Passport tucked in the front pocket. Hoodie packed at the bottom where I could not see it but still felt it somehow. My flight was at night. One more day. Cal texted me first. You awake? I walked over without replying. He lived two streets over. It was early morning , the sky a pale gray, the

100% Agree with you. You'll get to see a lot of new characters soon. One of them being the love interest of course

I sit there on the porch, journal in my lap, staring at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something easier. I can’t tell if I’m writing to remember him or to forget him. My phone buzzes again. This time, I don’t ignore it. I glance. It’s Cal, my best friend. Pack, bitch. London waits for no one. I smile. Barely. Then shove the journal into my backpack, push open the front door, and head back inside. My room’s a mess. Suitcase open, nothing inside.

I applied to Alpha Zeta Rho during Rush Week as a joke. I mean, seriously. An all-jock frat? Me? A twink like me? That’s hilarious. I used to love fucking with hot straight jocks in high school. Flirting too much. Lingering a little longer in locker rooms just to watch them get uncomfortable. Sometimes they’d get angry. Sometimes they’d get curious. I liked both. So the idea of pledging their sacred little frat felt like the ultimate dare. I filled out the application online,

Alpha Zeta Rho .... the cockiest, all-jock frat on campus. Known for keg stands, locker room brawls, and one secret tradition: Every year, they pick one pledge to turn into their house toy. Troy (Aka. ME) Age: 19. Slim. Pale. Big eyes. Soft lips. The only freshman in the house who doesn’t look like a linebacker. Always in too-short shorts and tight tees. Always watching. They say I got in “by mistake.” I'm starting to realize… it was on purpose. I'm not the first. But I'm this year’s to

Alpha Zeta Rho .... the cockiest, all-jock frat on campus. Known for keg stands, locker room brawls, and one secret tradition: Every year, they pick one pledge to turn into their house toy.

Earlier today, Becca almost caught us red-handed. Dylan’s cock was seconds from sliding into me when she knocked on the door, forcing me to yank up my shorts and pretend nothing was happening. But now, minutes later, I was back in his apartment, bent over his bed, my hole still wet from his mouth, and my entire body trembling with how badly I needed him. “Please Dylan,” I whispered, still on my knees. “Please fuck me.” Dylan didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at me from beh

That was exactly my goal with this story; to create a non-erotic gay series that feels heartfelt, deeply relatable, and close to real life.

It’s past midnight. The kind of night that makes your thoughts louder. I’m walking the neighborhood loop I’ve done a thousand times, hoodie up, phone buzzing in my pocket. I don’t check it. Probably my mom reminding me to pack some warm clothes, or maybe my best friend Cal sending another funny video that’s supposed to make me laugh. I’m not really in the mood. The sky is clear. No breeze. Not even the usual bark from the neighbor's dog. Just me, sneakers on pavement, and everything I haven

Yeah, I’m moving to the UK. For college. I told everyone it’s because I wanted to explore, to get out of my comfort zone, to try something new. But the truth is a little messier. I fought with my parents. I felt stuck in a version of myself that never really fit. And maybe, deep down, I just wanted to forget him. Luke. The guy I was in love with. Maybe I still am. My pillow definitely knows how much I still cry over him. He took my virginity and then told me we were better off as friends. I

A story about first love, last goodbyes, and everything that still lingers in between. A new city, a new life but somehow, his ghost still follows me. Maybe this time, love won’t leave me behind.

So yeah. I sent Adam a video of me gagging on Chris's cock. Nothing extreme. Okay, maybe his cock was buried deep in my throat. Enough to let Adam know what he was missing. Enough to make him squirm. And maybe, if I was lucky enough to make him finally get off that high horse and come over. I showed the message from Adam to Chris. “Dude,” I grinned. “It worked. He wants to join in..” Chris didn’t even blink. He just looked at me, still half-hard, wiped his lip with his thumb

Thank you for the thoughtful comment and I honestly appreciate the honesty too! I totally understand this dynamic isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay. I love exploring complicated characters and messy relationships, even if they aren’t always comfortable or easily understood. And it means a lot that you’re still reading and engaging, even if it’s not your cup of tea. That kind of investment is what keeps me writing.

I’ve really loved reading all the comments and appreciate when people engage with the story. But over the last 3–4 posts, I’ve noticed the narrative tone has become much harsher. As a writer who spends a lot of time planning these arcs and developing characters I care deeply about, it’s disheartening to see the story reduced to harsh labels like calling Dylan a sex villain, abusive or Troy spineless and a sex slave. Troy isn’t trapped; he’s making choices. He’s the one going back and forth between two very different men, trying to understand what kind of love he wants. The story is meant to be messy, passionate, and conflicted. The narrative in some comments is taking the story somewhere it’s not meant to go...reducing complex characters to harsh labels and ignoring the intentional, messy dynamics I’m exploring. It’s important to remember the story’s purpose and not misrepresent it. All encounters are consensual, and the power dynamics are intentional parts of the arc, not oversights. I welcome critique, but I hope we can keep the conversation thoughtful and respectful.

It’s really disheartening to see so many aggressive comments lately. Every post seems to have someone saying Dylan should be thrown off a balcony or that Troy is spineless or addicted. I’ve poured a lot into this story and it’s discouraging to see it reduced to jokes or insults. Troy isn’t trapped. He’s making choices. The tension between Dylan’s dominance and Elliot’s softness is the core of the arc. It’s meant to be messy. That’s the point. I also write other stories like Late Nights with My Hot Boss, which is purely romantic and erotic. But even there, I saw comments about HR complaints, power imbalance, and being used. It feels like a few commenters are determined to find a way to derail any story, no matter the tone or intent. Not every story is for everyone and that’s okay. But if a dynamic doesn’t speak to you, I don’t see the need to tear it down or make it personal.

Fair.. Dylan definitely expresses himself in his own… aggressive way. But honestly, that’s part of what this story is exploring: how love and desire don’t always show up wrapped in neat, healthy packaging. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s confusing. And sometimes the people we can’t quit are the ones who challenge us the most; even if they’re not what everyone else would choose. How about we stop judging fictional characters for their personal sexual choices? Troy isn’t weak for craving dominance, and Dylan isn’t evil for being rough in bed. Not every relationship fits into a neat, romantic mold and that’s the complexity this story is exploring

Some of the comments here are surprising. I totally understand if the story or dynamic isn’t for everyone; this isn’t a typical romance, and that’s intentional. This story explores a consensual dom/sub relationship, and in Season 2, Troy’s beginning to realize he might want something softer too... which is what makes the tension between Dylan and Elliot so central. It’s messy by design. Attraction often is. All encounters are fully consensual. No one is being forced or trapped.

Becca caught Dylan and me earlier this morning, right before he could fuck me on her living room couch. She interrupted everything. But Dylan’s not the type to let something go unfinished. Now I’m standing at his door, already aching, already wet, already thinking about his cock and how obsessed I am with the way he looks at me like I’m his. Because maybe I am. His door opened like he’d been standing right behind it, waiting. Dylan was still in his underwear, the same ones that barely

Before I was done pretending Adam wasn’t watching, I went deep on Chris. Like, really deep. I arched myself lower and lower, spreading my knees wider, tilting my hips so Adam had the perfect view; my ass stretched open, my back curved, and my head bobbing down on Chris’s cock like I was trying to swallow every inch. Because I was. And yeah. I knew Adam was watching. I could feel him through the glass, heat prickling along my skin like a spotlight, but hotter. More desperate. Just

Troy choose to go back. He can make his own decisions. He enjoys the dominance. Dylan is not expressive when it comes to showing his love.

Dylan saw Elliot dropping me off at the apartment earlier this morning. One thing led to another, and five minutes later, his cock was buried down my throat, his fingers twisted in my hair like he owned me. He didn’t even take off my hoodie. Just bent me over the couch, yanked my shorts down, and lined himself up behind me. His cock was thick and slick and pulsing against my hole, the head already leaking, just about to press in..... and that’s when the knock came at the door. “Shit,” I m

Wes stared up at me, sprawled across the mattress, his chest slick with sweat, his cock flushed red and still hard from everything we’d just done. His eyes flicked down to mine—then lower. “You’re serious?” he breathed. “You’re actually gonna... fuck me?” I stepped closer, dragging my palm along his thigh, up to his hipbone. “Unless you’re backing out.” He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Shit. I don’t know what it’s gonna feel like.” “It’s different,” I said softly, “but it

So yeah Adam told me he was straight. Right after flexing those arms, smirking like a menace, and letting me tease him right through the glass without even blinking. And sure, maybe I said something like Is that a challenge? and he said something cocky back, but let’s be real: the man was flirting. Period. We even exchanged numbers. It was casual. He said something about going for a morning run “You look like a cardio guy,” whatever that means. I said he should hit me up when he’s