Hydro Homo pt. 1

Bennett, a conspiracy theorist, uproots his life and heads to Minneapolis to uncover the truth behind Hierarch Industries’ Project: Ophiuchus.

Honestly, it’s insane.

Bennett looked out the window at the setting sun and sighed. For a world on the brink of destruction, it certainly had its moments. There was just something so strangely serene and peaceful about driving up a long stretch of mostly empty interstate highway as the day was turning to night.

The radio in his old beater of a car crackled. It didn’t have the best audio quality but it was good enough. Another voice, different from the first one, came through.

I get ya, man. It’s fucking crazy. I can’t believe the government hasn’t stepped in yet!

Bennett could hardly believe it himself when he first learned about what Hierarch Industries was doing up in Lake Itasca. He was already suspicious of everything the government did but even he couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Bold of you to think that they aren’t in on it, bro.

It was the first voice talking, again. Jet. Founder of the podcast and journalist who used to work for one of the big mainstream media giants.

Jet talking about his experiences working for the MSM in one of the earliest episodes was what got Bennett hooked on the show. Everything he’d said in that episode confirmed what Bennett had always suspected: that real journalism was dead.

Apparently, modern media was all about the clicks and the views. No one wanted to talk about the difficult and serious things that challenged people’s beliefs; that wasn’t profitable.

Keeping the sheep appeased and entertained was the name of the game. Anything actually worthwhile was buried or outright destroyed if it didn’t fit the prevailing narrative. It was what happened to Jet. He was fired for doing his job.

The only thing Jet did wrong was try to report on something that truly mattered. It was just his luck that the media was already in the pocket of Hierarch Industries and no one wanted to rock the boat.

Bennett could identify with Jet’s ordeal. It was why he liked the guy so much. He was also fired for trying to do the right thing and he was still extremely resentful over it.

For a year or so after graduating from college, Bennett had worked IT for a state legislator in his home state. He got fired for trying to blow the whistle on the guy’s record of sexual harassment and bullying. All he got out of it was a career that torpedoed before it could even really begin.

It wasn’t like Bennett hadn’t tried getting his story out there. He’d reached out to the local news many times with evidence. They’d just refused to take the story because the guy was a Democrat and a local darling.

Bennett had tried with the national news networks, too. They hadn’t even bothered giving him the time of day. Looking back, it was pretty obvious why they hadn’t. No one cared about some piddly little Democratic state legislator from the middle of bumfuck Iowa.

I don’t know, man. Even if I was taking bribes from a shady company, I don’t think I could just stand by and do nothing if that company started dumping homosexual chemicals in the Mississippi.

It was the second voice again. Derek, allegedly an ex-employee of Hierarch Industries. Jet had introduced him in the fifth episode of the podcast as the guy that had turned him on to the conspiracy.

Jet: That’s because you have a heart, man.

Yeah. Derek meant well and all, but Bennett couldn’t help but think he was a bit naïve. All politicians were heartless blood-suckers. He was sure of it.

Taking a deep breath, Bennett loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He’d been clutching it so hard his knuckles were turning white. He was just so goddamn angry about everything.

Now wasn’t the time for Bennett to lose his temper, though. He had a mission to accomplish and getting angry wasn’t going to help.

Taking a moment to focus on the tranquility of his surroundings, Bennett continued listening to the podcast. He didn’t need anyone to tell him he was doing the right thing but it helped to know there were people out there who wanted the truth to get out as much as he did.

Derek: I don’t know, man. Surely at least one of them has a heart.

Jet laughed sardonically. Right around the same time, Bennett did so, too. Maybe Derek had a point but it didn’t mean shit even if a few politicians had hearts. Jet put it in more salient terms than Bennett ever could.

Jet: Yeah. And how long before the ones with hearts are either eaten whole by the establishment? Or even worse, kicked out by someone more willing to be a shill?

There was a brief silence on the other end of the podcast. It was Derek who spoke first.

Derek: Guess I have more faith in people than you do, huh?

Jet chuckled.

Jet: Oh yeah, buddy. For sure.

Most people didn’t deserve the kind of innocent faith Derek had. Sure, politicians held a lot of the blame for the world’s problems but it was the people who voted the corrupt bastards in in the first place.

Bennett shook his head. It was starting to get dark outside so he turned his headlights on. Until people could be bothered to think for themselves, he was pretty happy believing the worst of them.

Derek: Anyway, before we get any more sidetracked, there was a question I’ve always been meaning to ask.

Jet: I mean, sure. Ask away. We’ve already covered this week’s topic for the podcast anyway.

Derek: Okay. So. I’ve been wondering for a while now how you even figured out what they were doing to the water. The documents I gave you only talked about the tech, not what they were going to do with it.

Bennett’s ears perked. This was something he was definitely interested in. Jet had only ever touched on his investigation but never really described his process.

Any tips and tricks Bennett could glean from Jet’s methods were sure to assist him in his own inquiry into the matter. He was willing to use any help he could get.

Jet: I mean, look. It’s all there if you know where to look.

There was a brief silence before Derek burst out laughing.

Derek: Yeah. Real helpful, man.

Bennett had to agree with Derek this time. Obviously, the Mississippi River and this Camp Sherwood place had massive neon signs hanging over them saying "Investigate me!" but other than that, Bennett had no idea what he was even supposed to look for.

Jet: Okay. Okay. Specifics. Well, we know that the premise was distributing certain chemicals to American households through natural waterways with minimal environmental impact, right?

Derek: Right.

Jet: So I checked water quality reports in the ten nearest municipalities downstream of Lake Itasca.

Bennett frowned. What Jet had just said seemed to make logical sense on the surface but quickly fell apart when he considered the context. Luckily, it seemed Derek shared some of his confusion.

Derek: Hang on. I know for a fact the documents said the agent doesn’t show up in those tests. Why did you still look into them?

Jet: I mean, those are just words on a page, you know? You should know better than to just trust them at face value.

Derek: I guess that’s fair.

Jet: Besides, there was no harm in checking. Maybe someone had noticed something.

Derek: Did someone notice something?

Jet laughed.

Jet: Nah. The documents were accurate. Everything was normal.

Derek: So was that it? Did you have to find a new lead after that?

Bennett wanted to know, too. He had no doubt Hierarch Industries was pumping chemicals into the Mississippi. The evidence Jet provided on the podcast website was pretty damning for that. However, he’d always been a bit iffy about the part where the chemicals were turning people gay.

It wasn’t that Bennett didn’t trust Jet, it was just that the evidence for that part of the story had always looked a bit… flimsy. The most compelling piece was a testimonial from a former professional chemist who managed to isolate a compound in the river water associated with increased rates of homosexual behavior in frogs.

Jet: I thought I would have to but I thought maybe the inspectors were paid off by Hierarch Industries. That’s when I found something interesting.

Derek: Oh?

Jet: Let me ask you a question. What do you think the chances are that one water inspector in a nearby municipality gets divorced within, say, a few years of Camp Sherwood opening?

Bennett thought about it. Fairly high, he imagined. A guy getting divorced wasn’t really a big deal nowadays but he felt that wasn’t what Jet was getting at.

Derek: I mean, people get divorced all the time so I guess higher than I’d think?

Jet: How about two?

Derek: Probably still pretty high? It’s been a couple of years since Camp Sherwood opened and it’s not outside the realm of possibility that one or two water inspectors have gotten divorced in that time.

Jet: What about half of them?

Derek: No fucking way.

A chill ran down Bennett’s spine. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. Divorce rates were at around 50%, sure, but it probably wasn’t reasonable to expect that half of all people in a highly specific profession in a highly specific area would get divorced over the course of around five years.

Derek: You’re not shitting me?

Jet: Nope. It really was that bad.

Derek: How did you even find all that out?

Jet laughed.

Jet: Look. If people get divorced, it’ll end up all over the court system. So when I noticed a pattern, I started looking into it.

Derek: Wait. Tell me you didn’t… How far did you take this?

Jet: I mean… I just looked into the court records of every single municipal water inspector in towns and cities along the Mississippi River from the date Camp Sherwood was established.

Bennett whistled. That was true dedication. He had to admire it.

Derek: Oh wow. You’re a more patient man than me, bro.

Bennett scoffed. He supposed it was fair since Derek wasn’t a truth-seeker like him and Jet but looking into court records like that was child’s play. Jet summed up his thoughts in a very quaint statement.

Jet: Hey. What’s a little effort when the truth’s on the line?

Bennett wholeheartedly agreed. When people’s very identities were at stake. Late nights and hundreds of dollars spent to access public records were really just minor inconveniences.

There was a reason Bennett was driving up to Minnesota with everything he owned in the backseat of his old beater. He wanted to dig into this thing and find out the truth and share what he found with anyone who would listen.

Truth was, Bennett didn’t have much left for him in Iowa. He lost everything after his previous employer threw him under the bus.

Despite having a college degree, Bennett had spent the last two decades bouncing from temp job to temp job in between brief stints in retail. Sometimes he even had to beg just to be hired.

What Bennett had managed to save over the last 20 years was meager. He was just lucky enough he didn’t end up sick or injured enough to have to spend it.

Most anything that had any value in Bennett’s life was taken from him after the state legislator fired him. Even though he’d lived in Iowa all his life, it ended up not being all that difficult of a decision to uproot everything and move to Minnesota.

Bennett looked out the window and sighed. He was doing the right thing. He was sure of it. He just couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would have been, had he lived in a fairer, more just world.

Jet: But don’t go thinking the only way you can find evidence of this is by doing obscure research and going into court records.

Jet’s voice brought Bennett back to reality. It was a good thing to hear. He wasn’t sure he had the investigative chops to match up to the former journalist, to begin with.

Derek: What do you mean?

Jet: This thing is all over the internet, bro.

Bennett trusted Jet. He really did. Even so, he couldn’t help but be a bit skeptical. More people would have noticed if it was all over the internet as Jet was saying.

Derek: I dunno about that, man. There’d probably be more people talking about it on social media if that were true!

Jet: That’s because hardly anyone pays attention outside of their immediate circle! If you look at the country as a whole, it’ll be hard to miss.

That was true, Bennett supposed. He’d gotten tired of all the blowback from the main social media platforms that he’d slowly retreated from them. Most of the time he spent online was in communities of similar-minded individuals.

Some would say Bennett was living in a safe space, or an echo chamber, but he didn’t think so. Everywhere else, people were constantly trying to push the propaganda of the deep state and the new world order on him. They attacked anyone they didn’t agree with. Viciously.

Bennett didn’t have the time, the energy, nor the constitution to deal with all of that. In his mind, the places he frequented were the last bastions of true freedom of expression. They were the only places he could interact and converse with people he considered genuine free-thinkers, and not just deluded sheep drinking the government’s kool-aid.

In any case, Bennett was interested to hear Jet’s explanation.

Jet: Alright. I don’t think we’ll have enough time to really get into this topic this week but I’ll give you a basic rundown. How’s that sound, man?

Derek: Hey, it’s your show, bro. I’m just curious.

Had it really been so long already? Bennett glanced at the clock on his dashboard. He supposed it had. The last three hours had gone by like a dream. He could scarcely even remember how this particular episode of the podcast had started.

Jet: Well, first off. There’s a lot of data out there. I might not mind spending a couple of all-nighters to go through court records but man, even I can’t handle that much shit.

Derek: Makes sense to me. So what did you do?

Jet: I got a software engineer friend of mine to put a program together to do all the hard work for me. Work smarter, not harder, I always say.

Derek: Oh! Interesting. Did you ask—

Jet cut in before Derek could finish.

Jet: Yeah. I did.

Derek: Oops. Sorry. I was just about to say their name out loud, wasn’t I?

Jet: Yeah…

Derek: Sorry, bro. Won’t happen again.

Jet: I mean, it’s fine. I’d just have to cut it out in post.

It was one thing Bennett had to admire about Jet. Even though he wasn’t working professionally anymore, he still maintained his journalistic integrity and protected his sources and connections. It gave Bennett hope.

Derek: That’s super interesting though, man. They never told me they were doing something for you!

Jet: Heh. I asked them to keep it a bit on the down-low.

Derek: So after you had the software, what did you do?

Jet: Well, it took a bit of time to scrape all the data but after that, I looked into a pretty large sample of women from around the Mississippi and then another set from across the country as a control.

I had the program filter the dataset down to all the ones that had changed relationship statuses over the past couple of years. Anyone who became single or changed partners.

Derek: So you were looking for breakups?

Jet: Pretty much, yeah. I was looking for breakups specifically so I removed the ones that resulted from bereavement—the ones where the relationship status changed because the partner died.

Derek: Makes sense.

Jet: I was also only interested in heterosexual relationships so I removed all same-sex couples from the equation. In the end, I was left with all the women who had broken up with a man over the last couple of years.

Bennett nodded. Everything he’d heard so far made sense. He could follow the logic. If there really was an epidemic of straight men turning gay because of the Mississippi, then it would show.

From what Jett described, though, the results would have shown an increase in the number of breakups around the Mississippi. While it was some form of evidence, Bennett didn’t think it adequately proved that the Mississippi was turning men gay.

At most, the data Jet was describing could say that the Mississippi was breaking couples up.

Derek: Okay. So I’m guessing there were more break-ups around the Mississippi.

Jet: That’s right!

Derek: Okay. How does that prove it’s turning men gay, though?

Jet: I was getting to that part! After I had all the breakups, I looked into the male partners. I checked their social media to see how many were in new same-sex relationships or were engaging in same-sex intercourse.

Jet: Bi people exist so, naturally, I also filtered the results. I removed anyone who had displayed same-sex attraction previously. After that, I was pretty convinced I had a set of men who had experienced a homosexual awakening in the last couple of years.

I see, Bennett thought to himself. It all made sense now. It was pretty clever, really. He was interested to hear the results, now.

Jet: Give me a ballpark guess, bro. What percent of men that had a breakup in the last couple of years had a homosexual awakening?

Derek: Well, since you’re pretty sure people are turning gay it has to be higher than the fraction of the population that’s gay. So I’d say 30%? That’s pretty high, right, bro?

If Derek’s guess was right, Jet might have definitely hit on a smoking gun. 30% was surely too high.

Jet: It was actually closer to 80% around the Mississippi.

Bennett was gobsmacked. He nearly swerved off the road in surprise. 30% was high but it could have been explained by any number of factors, he supposed.

80% was improbably high. It was so much worse than Bennett could have ever imagined. Part of him was considering even turning back, knowing this, but no. He was resolute in his cause.

Now, more than ever, it was important for Bennett to find the hard evidence to convince people it was true. That Hierarch Industries was trying to establish a new, homosexual world order that it could rule from the top.

If anything, what Jet had just revealed was a reminder to Bennett that he had to be careful. He couldn’t trust anyone. Couldn’t trust anything. For however long it would take him to find the truth, he would have to rely on himself.

Jet: And on that horrifying note, I’m sad to say but we’ve run out of time on this week’s episode.

Derek: Damn. Well. If you want us to go more in-depth on this topic next week, please let us know. I’m sure everyone’s just as curious as I am.

Jet: Well, I already had something planned for next week but if it’s what the people want…

Derek: You gotta give the people what they want, man.

Jet: Alright. If this episode gets 500 likes and I see a ton of you commenting that’s what you want, then we’ll do a deep dive next week. How’s that?

Derek: Sounds fair to me so make sure you guys like this podcast episode! I’m dying to know more! Don’t let me down!

Bennett nodded to himself. He would definitely do his part. He wanted to know more. About the process. About the software. The details of the data. Anything Jet could give, he would take with enthusiasm.

Jet: One last thing before we go… There’s a special fan of ours out there somewhere in Iowa who sent in a letter a few weeks ago.

Bennett’s heart skipped a beat. What Jet was talking about couldn’t possibly be the letter he’d sent in.

Jet: To that fan, I know you wrote in convinced that I wouldn’t read your letter. I want you all to know, right now, that I read everything you send me.

Holy shit. Bennett was freaking out. He had to pull over and put on his hazard lights. He couldn’t very well drive in this state. Jet was talking to him. Sure, it was a recording, but still. Jet was talking to him.

Jet: I don’t know if you’re listening in tonight. I figured if all your plans went well that you’d be well on your way up to Minnesota by now. I just want you to know that I admire your courage. I stand behind what you’re doing. I’m rooting for you.

Tears pricked at Bennett’s eyes. He hadn’t known how much he needed the validation. He definitely felt he was on the right track now.

Jet: And I don’t know if you’re willing to take a leap of faith with me but I would love to help you however I can. I have a contact living up in Minneapolis. I trust this man with my life.

Bennett’s breath hitched in his throat. He was getting all choked-up. He hadn’t heard such kind words in over twenty years.

Jet: The road ahead is going to be incredibly difficult. You’ll face challenges and obstacles every step of the way. If you’ll let me, I want to help.

It wasn’t even a question. Of course. Bennett would take the help. He could use all the help he could get. While he couldn’t trust anyone, he was sure he could trust Jet.

No one was fighting harder to get word of this Mississippi thing out there more than Jet. Every time he released a podcast episode, he was putting his life on the line. How he’d evaded Hierarch Industries so far was beyond Bennett. It was amazing.

Jet: So, if you swing by Minneapolis, just send me an email and I’ll arrange for a meeting with my contact. I wish you luck, man. Stay safe out there. I hope you find the truth.

There was silence for a few minutes. Bennett took the time to collect himself. He got back on the road not long after, feeling more confident than ever in his decision to pack up and leave his home state.

Now that Jet had made such an offer, Bennett could scarcely decline. The question now was whether he should wait until he got to Minneapolis before firing off that email Jet asked for.

No, Bennett decided. The sooner he got in contact with Jet’s friend in Minneapolis, the better. The first order of business was to drive until he found somewhere with free wi-fi.

Where that was, Bennett had no idea. His old beater of a car didn’t have a GPS and he abandoned his smartphone when he chose to leave Iowa—in case he was being tracked. He supposed he’d just have to keep an eye out.

Then again, Bennett probably wasn’t too far out from Minneapolis by now. Whatever. If he saw some place that he figured would have free wi-fi, he’d write the email from there. If he got to Minneapolis first, then he’d write it from wherever he decided to stay.


In the end, Bennett managed to find a coffee shop that offered free wi-fi. It had occurred to him that he hadn’t yet looked into a place to stay and he took the opportunity to look up a cheap motel before sending off that email.

It wasn’t the best start to Bennett’s endeavor but he wasn’t about to let it get the best of him. Sure, he felt a little in over his head but if Jet was helping him, he was confident he could do it.

There was no guarantee Bennett would find what he wanted but he certainly wasn’t going to stop trying. With the proper support, he hoped he’d be able to expose the conspiracy within the next few months, at least.

It was at the coffee shop that Bennett realized another problem. He’d just finished sending off the email and was about to take a sip of the coffee he’d ordered when he stopped. He realized the coffee was probably made with filtered tap water. He couldn’t trust it.

There was a chance the agent used by Hierarch Industries to contaminate the Mississippi River broke down in the presence of heat but Bennett doubted it. Either way, he couldn’t take the chance. It was a problem.

The documents on Jet’s website said nothing about it. The agent itself wasn’t even specified—though there were a few guesses from self-professed experts.

No one knew if the agent needed to be ingested to be effective or if it could be absorbed through the skin. God forbid if it could be transmitted through the air. If such was the case, even being near the Mississippi was a risk.

Bennett rubbed his face and took out a notepad and pen. There were so many things he had to watch out for. He really was underprepared.

First of all, Bennett couldn’t drink local tap water. Completely off-limits. He would have to swing by the local supermarket, make sure the water he bought wasn’t locally sourced, and live off of that.

It was an unexpected expense but there was nothing Bennett could do. He could only hope Jet’s help involved financial assistance but he had to make plans in case it didn’t.

Bennett couldn’t eat out, either. Restaurant profit margins were thin enough they probably weren’t going to go to the extent of ordering in water to use specifically for cooking.

Washing dishes was also going to be unacceptable. Bennett couldn’t risk the water leaving behind an active residue of the agent. For the same reason, he couldn’t shower. Nor could he use store-bought water to clean himself. He didn’t have the money for that.

The solution came to Bennett as he was looking at the paper napkins that came with his drink. Wipes. He’d have to make do with cleaning himself with disinfectant wipes until he could figure out how to shower without exposing himself to the agent.

Truth be told, Bennett was mildly disgusted at the prospect but he didn’t really have any alternatives. For the next hour, he tried to work out the things that he would need to avoid before he was pretty sure he’d covered everything.

Once Bennett was done, he got up, picked up his coffee, and dumped it in a bin right outside before returning to his car.


After a long day’s worth of travel, it was little surprise that Bennett was exhausted by the time he got the keys to his motel room. As it was in a seedier part of town, the nightly rates weren’t too bad.

Bennett might have chosen slightly better accommodations but he didn’t have much of a choice, this time. With all the unexpected expenses he would have to shoulder, he could use all the money he could save.

It wasn’t all bad, though. At least, being where the motel was, Bennett was less likely to be noticed by Hierarch Industries.

Bennett still had to be careful—there was no doubt about that—but at least he didn’t have to worry about getting caught in the company’s radar. The last thing he needed was strange men keeping tabs on him while he went around trying to uncover evidence.

The room also wasn’t as wretched as Bennett expected it to be. The façade of the building left much to be desired but the room itself was quite well-appointed. It wasn’t all that hard to tell where all the renovation budget went.

Bennett lugged the bulk of his belongings, which made up two large gym bags, into the room. There was some other stuff in his car—equipment he’d bought for rudimentary chemical analysis—but he’d left it there for now.

It was a risk, Bennett knew. It wasn’t a good part of town and he was pretty much just asking for the stuff to be stolen.

Truthfully, Bennett had fully intended to go back for the equipment. He just didn’t have the energy. He’d barely managed to lug the two gym bags to the room to start with.

Bennett dragged the two gym bags over to the couch. He set the laptop bag he had slung over his shoulders on top and promptly walked over to collapse face-first into the bed. He expected the covers to be stiff, and the mattress to be musty but he was pleasantly surprised.

A heavy sigh slipped from Bennett’s lips. God. He could feel himself melting into the soft bed. There were other things he wanted to do before going to sleep tonight but he just couldn’t be bothered.

Bennett lay there for a few minutes, eyes closed. He was too tired to move but sleep still somehow evaded him.

Before long, Bennett felt the front of his pants get tight. He couldn’t help but groan. It was such an inconvenient time to get an erection.

It wasn’t like Bennett could do anything about it, though. Sometimes, he was convinced the damn thing had a mind of its own. There wasn’t even anything remotely arousing about the situation.

Bennett tried to ignore the insistent, pulsing need in his pants but his resolve quickly wavered. With a grunt, he pulled himself up into the bed, kicked off his shoes, and rolled over onto his back.

"Fucking hell," Bennett mumbled to himself. He was so goddamn hard. He didn’t even feel particularly horny but it just wouldn’t go down.

Oh well, Bennett thought to himself. Maybe if he just jerked one out, his body would let him get some sleep.

Bennett reached between his legs and rubbed the outline of his hard cock through his jeans. He chewed on his lower lip and groaned. Fuck. His cock was sensitive tonight.

As he slid his hand under the waistband of his jeans, Bennett wondered if he should take his laptop out and watch some porn. The laptop bag seemed so far away, though. He didn’t need it, anyway.

Bennett stared at the ceiling as he rubbed his cock through his briefs. The feeling of the cotton sliding up and down his shaft made his cock twitch.

Rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock, Bennett could tell he was leaking. The fabric of his underwear was damp in that spot and only getting wetter. He was more pent-up than he realized.

Bennett’s thoughts turned to the cute barista that had served him at the coffee shop earlier. She was probably in her twenties and unlikely to want anything to do with a middle-aged man like him but that hardly mattered in fantasyland.

A low moan spilled out of Bennett as he imagined taking her home. He could scarcely even remember the last time he had sex.

The closest Bennett had gotten to a woman in the last few years was the pussy fleshlight he purchased three years ago. He still had it. It was in one of the gym bags. He was just too tired to go get it.

As for the last time Bennett had sex with a real woman, he didn’t even want to remember. It had been a sloppy, clumsy, drunken night that ended with disappointment all around.

Bennett just didn’t approach women anymore. He didn’t have the confidence now that he was old and washed up. It wasn’t like he had anything to offer them, anyway.

Pity party in his head aside, Bennett’s cock was still rock-hard. He pulled it out of his pants, shimmying his jeans and briefs down a little to give it space.

Bennett leaned up to look at his cock. He licked his lips, rubbing his thumb over the glistening, wet head. He was bigger than average and had been told he had a very pretty cock. It stood ramrod straight in his loosely-wrapped fingers and nicely filled his palm.

"Ah, fuck," Bennett groaned as he stroked himself. It wasn’t like he needed a woman, anyway. It would only be a distraction from the important work he had to do. As long as his cock was still working, he’d be fine.

Bennett watched his hand glide up and down his shaft. It was mesmerizing and it felt so good. He loved the way his foreskin slipped over the head of his cock on the upstroke, and then pulled away on the downstroke.

It wasn’t gay to say he loved his penis, right? Because Bennett loved his penis. It made him feel so good. It was the one island of pleasure in the miserable morass of his life.

Bennett couldn’t take his eyes away. He moaned as his cock swelled in his grip. It throbbed, hard as a steel rod in his hand. The best part was when a glob of clear, glistening pre-cum beaded at the tip and rolled down over his fingers. Fuck, it turned him on so much.

Sure, Bennett would have loved to watch it slide into a tight pussy but at the same time, it wasn’t necessary. He could just pump it into his fist. He could watch the fat head gently prying his fingers apart as he forced it into the tunnel of his grip.

"Fuck," Bennett hissed, under his breath.

No one needed sex.

No one needed intimacy.

Bennett bucked his hips, fucking his cock into his fist. He could feel the orgasm coming, the pressure coiling in his groin.

Sex with real people came with all the emotional messiness of real people. Bennett didn’t need that shit. He had his own baggage to lug around.

Sometimes it was better to just fuck a hole that wasn’t attached to a person with thoughts and feelings. Sometimes all Bennett needed was to get off—or feel good.

Just because Bennett was jerking off didn’t mean he had to cum. Sometimes he just wanted to feel good, to not have to think about how miserable his life had turned out to be.

A long, low moan escaped Bennett. Sometimes, the only hole he needed to fuck was the one he made with his fingers.

It was such a good hole, too. It didn’t need any cleaning. It could be as tight as Bennett wanted. It could be as wet as he wanted.

Bennett hocked a glob of spit on his cock. He moaned as it smeared all over him, mixing with his pre-cum, making him slick and slippery all over.

"Fuck!" Bennett groaned, tilting his head back. He pumped his hand. He fucked his hand, pushing his ass an inch or two up off the mattress.

Bennett was close. So close. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned as he reached the point of no return and blasted right past it.

"Oh, fuck!" Bennett moaned as his legs gave out and his ass dropped back on the bed. His cock exploded, shooting several ropes of thick cum that arced over his head to splatter on the sheets behind him.

Bennett got his cum all over himself, too. He lay there, panting, as his thick, musky seed soaked into his shirt and cooled.

"Fuck," Bennett grunted. He grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and looked down at all the splotches of cum he’d made. He rubbed at the wet spots, grimacing as he realized he couldn’t get them out.

Bennett had just realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to wash his clothes, either.

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