Young and Tender - 1. The Tale

Alex Mandeville hesitated. Was this really the right house? The rest of the houses on the street were the usual shabby semis with overgrown gardens. It was the same everywhere. The owners were too old to be bothered with gardening and DIY, and their tenants were too resentful, too busy in their working lives. The building he was standing in front of was a wreck, but the gravelled front garden looked immaculate with its well-tended flower tubs. He could see where the gravel had been raked recently. Weird. Why spend so much time doing that and not mantaining the fabric of the building itself? The cladding looked cracked in places, the guttering was incomplete, and there were loose roof tiles.

Sodding pensioners. Blocking housing stock needed by other people. Working, deserving people who would also look after their homes. Pensioners should all go and live in one of the warrens – that's what they were there for. The oldies got a room, communal facilities, sometimes an outdoor area. What more did they need? The warrens were land efficient as well. The ones he'd seen on the 'net housed thousands of oldies in one building. That was more like it. Out of sight, out of mind. And it left everyone else like him to enjoy the towns and cities in comparative peace. The sooner all the oldies were moved out, the better.

Yes, he was currently single, but it wouldn't be for long if he had anything to do with it. Alex wished for a partner, a couple of dogs, and eventually a kid or two. Adoption or surrogacy – he wasn't bothered. People like him needed a house, not some washed-up relic, sponging off the state. Unlike most of his peers, Alex saved for a pension. What age could he expect to draw on it? Seventy bloody seven at the latest guesstimate.

The young man growled deep in his throat. He thought often about the current generational injustices, and he was as angry and passionate every time. The bastards in charge had continued to shaft his generation as they had the previous one. Building new houses, affordable new houses? Not fucking likely – there was always something more important. Some fucking vanity project or another. He and his mates didn't matter – all because the bloody oldies outvoted them. Who did the politicos bow down to? Them, of course. Never him and his generation. Some days he thought he could feel the anger simmering all around.

Why hadn't he tried to do anything about it? Simple – he was too busy trying to survive. Holding down a job which hopefully wasn't going to be automated in the next six months. The state safety net for his generation had so many holes in it, Alex sometimes wondered whether it actually existed. Anyway, his intention was to never be in the position to find out. He remembered reading somewhere about an old idea of giving everyone a guaranteed basic income. What?! Joke. It was the survival of the fittest to get one of the few remaining, meaningful jobs. Of course, it was a buyers' market, with wages having remained static for decades.

Alex looked at the house again. It didn't look any more inviting than last time. The accommodation inside had better be up to his standards – minimum was a wide-screen, interactive TV, ultra high-speed broadband internet, virtual reality kit, his own facilities, and privacy. If overnight guests weren't allowed, he'd be out the front door in an instant. … Wait … How many refusals were allowed? … Three? Shit! He'd used two already. There must be a complaints procedure. Why should any sodding oldie feel free to palm substandard, crappy accommodation off onto him? He had rights. He paid his taxes. Taxes which supported the kind of indolent, spoiled, antediluvian wreck who already lived there …

Taking several deep breaths, Alex tried to calm himself down. For all his ranting, and his demands, he needed somewhere to stay. He'd become very tired of sofa-surfing over the previous few months. And his friends made it clear in their various ways, they were tired of him. Never mind the times he'd dossed down somewhere. Those hadn't been remotely fun, joining the hoards of younger people trying to find somewhere, anywhere that was safe to sleep in. He earned a decent enough wage, but his salary didn't get anywhere near what was needed to rent anything of his own. Which was why he was part of the government billeting scheme. The decades-old piece of feeble sticking plaster, trying to prevent a housing meltdown.

Alex frowned. What would really suit him – and his as yet fictional partner – was something from a social housing scheme. He sighed in frustration. Dream on … If he put his name down now, the slot would have passed down to his offspring, and then onto theirs, by the time his name would have reached the top of the queue. Housing was the crime of the century in his view, and he wasn't alone in thinking that.

There was a wooden sign next to where he stood, flapping irritatingly in the wind. Alex looked at the wording: Accommodation to let. Apply within. How many decades had that been up? State-sanctioned compulsory billeting was the norm since the start of the century at least. Alex wondered again what he was doing there. There was something odd about the whole thing. He almost felt like knocking on some of the other house doors and asking questions.

It was getting dark and cold. So instead, the young man grabbed his gear and stomped up the uneven path to the battered, peeling front door. Not finding any doorbell, Alex hammered on the door with his fist.

After a couple of minutes, the door opened. “Ah … Hello, young man. It's good to meet you. Come inside, do.”

A spry, well-preserved old man stood in the doorway, smiling in welcome. Alex stared back at him without saying anything. That was one oldie who could be out, making himself useful. The man stood aside as Alex pushed past him with his bags. While the homeowner locked up again, Alex looked around. If anything, the interior looked even less prepossessing than the outside. Everything was faded, tattered, scuffed. Unloved. Now, if he had the house, it would shine. Something so precious, it deserved to be looked after.

Maybe the state of it explained the sign? All the previous unfortunates who'd been allocated this house must've just turned tail when they made it inside. And he wouldn't be far behind them, only he was on his last refusal. If he turned this one down, it would be twelve months before he could apply again. What was he gonna do in the meantime? Doss again? No way – he wouldn't survive. The competition for prime spaces often led to fights to the death. What had the world come to?

“Alex Mandeville, isn't it?”

The voice behind him made Alex turn round. He nodded in reply.

The homeowner was looking him up and down. “You're a handsome specimen and no mistake. Good breeding stock in your family, by the looks of it.”

WTF? Alex bridled. He was there as a prospective tenant, not a sodding beauty contestant.

The other man didn't seem to notice Alex's annoyed expression. Instead he continued with his welcome spiel.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Alas, it has seen better days. But never fear, young man. I know my duty. You'll find your quarters are as good as anywhere else.”

Alex found that hard to believe.

“My name is Theodore Swire, an ex-butcher, and stockman by trade. Please call me Theo.”

OK … that kinda explained where the old man's previous remarks came from.

Alex was still suspicious. “Ah … err … Theo, if I could see the living space you're offering? I won't make my final decision until then.” Not that his hopes were high. Even if it was better than the main part of the house, that still wouldn't mean much.

“Yes, indeed. Please follow me.”

The two men walked through the downstairs rooms until they came to the back of the original house. He noticed a modern one-story extension. Looking beyond that, Alex saw gravel again, but this time it looked disturbed, as if a dog or something had been digging. There were some flower tubs, but all off to the side, leaving the main view an expanse of sandy-coloured gravel.

“There you are. A beautiful view, isn't it?”

Alex's eyebrows climbed high. 'Beautiful' wasn't the word he'd use. It was more acceptable than the main road, and that was about it.

“And which are my rooms?”

Somehow, Alex had the feeling that if he didn't keep on dragging the conversation back to business, the old man would witter on for ever.

“Here, young man. Here they are.” His older housemate opened the door leading into the extension.

Alex stepped over the threshold, expecting to give it the once-over, and then spend the rest of the time trying to cope with his disappointment. Then … What?! Had he suddenly shifted dimensions? It was … “Awesome!”

Alex's eyes swivelled from side to side as he took in the apartment's facilities. It was exactly as he'd hoped for. Spookily so. “Wow!”

“I find young people thrive best in an environment they're used to, and find stimulating.”

Alex turned back to the elderly owner. “It's amazing. Why did your last guest leave?”

They'd have to forcibly remove him – there was no way he'd leave of his own accord. In fact, if he took a mental step back, it was almost too good to be true.

“Err … my last young man was suddenly needed elsewhere. He was ready for use, in peak condition. Still, I'm very pleased you like it, Alex. I know my duty as a senior citizen.”

“Pity not many of you do.”

Alex was eager to get moved in. He wanted to try out everything, then let his friends know he'd landed on his feet and then some. They'd be well jealous.

“Yes, it is unfortunate. I'm pleased to offer the accommodation – I find the interaction with my young people mutually beneficial.”

As the old man finished with a smile, Alex wondered about the phrase 'mutually beneficial'. How was that part of the arrangement? It'd better not imply anything sexual. He was so not into sucking off geriatrics. And as for fucking … The thought of any sexual contact with an oldie, however well-preserved, made him feel ill. Alex made a mental note to ensure the lock on his door was secure every night.

His housemate turned to leave, then swung back again. “Oh, and the evening meal is included in the arrangement.”

Really? Alex couldn't see himself eating whatever gloop oldies ate. “Ta, but I'll pass on that. I usually order in.”

The other man looked surprised. “But I must insist. It's so much nicer if we're sociable. And it will save you money.”

Hmm … there was that. “OK … Just this once. To be sociable.”

One oldie meal wouldn't kill him.

“Good. Thank you. Six o'clock sharp.” And the old man turned and headed off in the direction of his kitchen.

Theodore Swire looked in his kitchen cupboards. Yes, he'd got all the ingredients out he needed for a large lasagne, but he needed to add the extras. Those things which would build his guest up, and also make him more amenable. Alex looked a healthy enough young man, but he needed more flesh on his bones, more muscle and sinew. Then he'd be a truly attractive proposition. A delectable nibble.

Theo got to work making the lasagne. He took care to add the extras only to the portion destined for Alex. There would nothing to cause alarm or suspicion as the doses were small. He always took the long view in such matters. Enough to make the difference without being detectable.

What would Alex be like in the months to come? The old man imagined he could scent his guest already. The mere thought of the sweet-smelling aroma coming off the young man's body made his cock stir briefly. The others had been willing, more or less, and they had been worth the wait. The long build-up was all part of his enjoyment. To see a handsome young man become even more attractive, mouth-watering, was something to be savoured.

The old man got lost in his thoughts, only being recalled to reality by the smell of the lasagne wafting past from the oven. He'd defy anyone not to fall in love with his cooking after the first mouthful. And the rest of his repertoire was to a similar standard, even if he did say so himself. He roused himself and got busy, making sure everything ready.

On the dot of six, the young man appeared. Theo sniffed – Alex hadn't changed his clothes or taken a shower since he'd arrived. He frowned. He'd soon change that. The offer of more of his delicious food would be dependant on certain things being achieved - an acceptable level of personal hygiene, politeness, and so on. The young man was very rude to push past him on his way in. He hadn't taken any care with his bags at all – one of them had hit his leg hard, leaving a bruise. It was how young people acted now. He knew that, but it didn't make him any less angry. Complete disrespect – he could feel it coming off them in waves. Who had brought them into the world? Looked after them, fed them? Feral – that was the word. Well, he would domesticate this one.

The older man watched as Alex wolfed down a second helping of the lasagne. It was always the same – the suspicions and reluctance, both easily overcome by sheer hunger. The young didn't know how to eat properly any more. Half the time, they didn't have any steady money coming in, so they couldn't afford to. Or they lived somewhere without the pretence of cooking facilities.

As Alex appeared to be finishing, Theo decided to start up a conversation. There were a few things he needed to check. It seemed a shame to start earlier – he enjoyed seeing his young men eat. Just as he would enjoy them in the future.

“So, Alex. What do you think of your new home? Are you ready to give me your decision?”

The young man looked startled. “Shit! Sorry, mate. Completely forgot. Too busy trying everything out. Yeah, I'm staying. And this food is awesome.” He looked round the kitchen. “Your part of the house could do with some work.”

Theo smiled. “Indeed, it could. My other young men helped with the garden, and their extension. Perhaps you'd like to help me redecorate in exchange for more meals like this one?”

He didn't usually introduce this topic until a couple of weeks later, when his supplements started to work their magic. Theo was surprised. Pleasantly so. Maybe this one would require less work, less time? … Might he be ready sooner? The old man reined himself in – rushing would only diminish the final result.

Alex gave a loud, satisfied burp. He hadn't eaten as much in a long time. Would he mind doing some DIY to get some more? No … It'd be easy enough to fool the oldie – potter around, do a bit of this and that. He could make himself look busy for very little effort. If he was going to be spending time in the kitchen, it made sense for him to start there. A bit of cleaning, a lick of paint … And if the meals were stopped? He survived before. As a working man, he could afford to eat.

He stretched, then pushed his chair back. “Yes, thanks. … Oh, there's a large chest freezer in my utility room that's locked?”

His housemate smiled. “Yes. I hope you don't mind. On the rare occasion I'm able to obtain real meat, I buy a side and then butcher it at home. The freezer's there to store the joints. It's locked because that's the way of the world. Meat more valuable than gold? Who would have thought it?”

They shared a glance about artificial food – efficient, drought-tolerant, and boring.

“I trust you found the exercise equipment as well? I like my young men to keep fit and healthy.”

“You don't do too badly yourself.” Alex was feeling more mellow with the food and wine.

“Indeed. In fact, I find competition is the best way to keep fit … If we pace each other, I'm sure we'll both see the results. Do morning or evening sessions suit you best?”

“Err …” Exercise had never been one of Alex's priorities. Survival kinda dominated. Followed closely by looking for sex. “Evenings, I guess.”

“Good, good. … Have you had enough?”

Alex found that his plate was empty once more. “Yeah, ta. It was great. Can't think the last time I had something that tasty.”

“It's only artificial meat, but I have a way of making it more acceptable. No Sunday lunches at home then?”

“Sunday what?” Alex snorted in disbelief. “Nah. Got thrown out when I was sixteen. Never been back.”

“You've done well for yourself, young man. A job – not many people have those nowadays. Nobody to share in your success?”

“Not yet. There will be, though. Soon.”

The older man was pleased. He'd chosen well again – a born fighter, a good physical specimen, and alone. Likelihood of interference? Bordering on nil.

Several weeks later, Alex made his way home after work. Walking all the way! He felt fitter, stronger, and he had a curious desire to be outside as much as he could. Being indoors for a long time made him feel penned in … Odd. He had much greater stamina, but little interest in sex. At first, he thought it was the changes in his life, tiredness, and the fact he had an oldie as a housemate. What man would want to get his rocks off while an oldie, with his ear pressed to the door, listened in? Eugh! In fact, he'd been strangely content to go to bed with no thought other than sleeping. He, who rarely went a week without fucking someone or another … Anyway, he could feel the urge coming back. Finally.

Alex turned the corner into his own street. The oldie's house still stuck out like a sore thumb. He'd made some improvements to the kitchen, but nothing that affected the dismal appearance of the outside. In fact, he surprised himself by how much he'd achieved – the painting was almost finished, and he'd re-done the plastering. … Yep, there was definitely the occasional twinge down below. Right … he was going to a club that evening. Get laid – top or bottom, he didn't very much care. This was more like it. Back to his usual self. He was fed up of lounging around on the sofa after exercising and supper, feeling like doing nothing other than digesting his food.

Whatever his housemate prepared for supper that evening, it had to be more edible than what appeared on the table a couple of days ago. The oldie produced some real seafood from somewhere and made a cross between a stew and a soup. The smell was appalling, and the textures had made his stomach lurch. Unsurprisingly, both men were gut-wrenchingly sick the following morning. Dry toast was the only thing they could manage later in the day. He hadn't been too badly affected, but the old man had really been laid low. So much for real food.

As he opened the front door, the welcoming aroma of the old man's signature lasagne greeted Alex. Ahh … that was so much better. His mouth started to water.

His elderly housemate stuck his head out from the kitchen. “There you are, young man. I hope you're feeling hungry again? I know I am. I've made plenty.”

On second thoughts … He wasn't going to pull if his belly looked as though he'd swallowed a football. “Ta, but my guts are still playing up. I'll only have a small portion tonight.”

The old man looked a little concerned, but didn't say anything.

“In fact, I'm going out later. Clubbing. Might not be back 'til tomorrow – 'bout time I got laid. I need a good fucking. Think I'll have a spliff or two while I'm at it.”

Alex wasn't really into drugs, but he thought it would annoy the oldie, and that pleased him. He headed off to his extension – he needed to get his clubbing clothes out. As he was about to open his front door, Alex happened to look over at the gravel. Someone had raked it, and the flower tubs were arranged across the expanse, making a much better impression. He shrugged. The oldie had to be doing something while he was out at work.

Theo cursed the wretched bouillabaisse – the shellfish had looked fresh enough, but then, what did he know? He couldn't recall the last time he'd tried anything like that. So it was back to something safe. The strong flavours of the lasagne would disguise the larger doses that he added. Not that they'd kick in soon enough to stop the young man from drinking too much, or getting high. He couldn't physically prevent him. The older man thought hard. Yes … he had another little something which he hadn't used in a long while. He would add it to the wine – it didn't need much – and it would give the cocktail of extras a headstart. Possibly enough? Theo shrugged. He could but hope.

He got everything ready and as usual, his lodger turned up to the table on time. Theo offered a smaller plate of food which was accepted with enthusiasm. He set to work on his own plateful.

“I trust you'll have a pleasant time this evening, Alex.”

His younger companion snorted as he shovelled food into his mouth. “Pleasant? Who gives a fuck about 'pleasant'? I'm gonna get smashed, then I'm gonna take some fucker's cock up my arse. Or I'll do him.”

Theo took a deep breath. He found the young man more provocative than he'd been at the start. Obnoxious. He'd test the waters a little more.

“Well, that will mean we'll have to spend more time on the exercises tomorrow. And the painting needs finishing in here, doesn't it?”

He watched closely for Alex's reaction. There was a flash of annoyance, but he said nothing. The two men finished their meal in silence.

Alex stood alone in a dark corner of the nightclub. He took another gulp of the disgusting synthetic excuse for beer in his glass. What had seemed an excellent idea not that long ago, now didn't. It started when he had to force himself into his clubbing gear – tight, black, and nearly transparent in all the right places. He'd forgotten how much muscle and flesh he'd put on. Then, when he fondled his dick for a moment, there'd been no response whatsoever. The stirrings he'd sensed earlier had buggered off again. He still made the trip – he could hardly go back to the house – but now he didn't want to dance, fuck, smoke, or …

“Hey, gorgeous.” A hand brushed up against his arse. “You look ready to eat.” The hand moved round to his front and caressed his cock, visible through one of the transparent meshes. A hard, muscled body moved up against his from behind, and a bulging cock was rubbed up against his backside.

Any other time in the past, Alex would've welcomed the encounter, hoping it would lead to sex, on or off the premises. Having sex was one way of forgetting the rest of his life. This time, nothing happened – no buzz, no quickening, no sense of anticipation. Nothing. Just a wish to sit and stare into space, ruminating.

“Ta, mate. Not interested.” Alex didn't even bother turning round.

“Dressed like that, and you're not interested?” The hand's owner sounded incredulous.

“You heard. Now fuck off.”

“OK, OK …”

The other man moved away, back in the direction of the dance floor.

Alex decided he'd had enough. It was a bad idea from start to finish. All he wanted was the comfort of his own bed. Alone. Then tomorrow, he would be back in his usual safe routine – eating, sleeping, working, exercising.

The old man stood, looking critically at his lodger, deep in a drugged sleep in his bed. Apart from the one blip a few weeks ago, everything had gone smoothly. Alex was now in peak condition. Ready to go, in fact. Theo had kept up the higher dosage of his supplements as it seemed to keep the young man more tractable. Still, it didn't matter. His clients wouldn't mind – it wasn't something that they were concerned with. Good taste, firm flesh, enticing scent, excellent presentation – those were the defining elements which made for their satisfaction. Yes, he'd done well this time, though it wasn't as easy as he'd thought at the start. The young man had been a particularly obnoxious specimen, even by modern standards. He shook his head. It was all they were fit for.

Theodore Swire unwrapped his work tools, laid them out, and went to unlock the freezer. It was time to get busy …