Catfished

My office in Midtown Manhattan buzzed with conversation over the sound of clacking keyboards. I was at my desk, writing code for high-frequency trading algorithms. Sounds exciting, right?

Nope. It was just like any other cube farm. My desk was surrounded by walls just high enough to block the windows, and don’t you dare leave a plant or a picture frame—the night shift was a totally different guy, and he needed to feel like it was his desk too.

It was the kind of job that sounded thrilling to outsiders—“millions of trades per second,” I explained at parties—but I knew the truth. I was a cog in a machine, optimizing someone else’s fortune while my own life sat still.

It had been four years. I couldn’t spend a lifetime there.

Every morning, I woke up at 6:15 to the sound of my alarm. The moment it started, a dull weight settled onto my chest. It wasn’t the jarring blare of some old-school buzzer, but somehow the gentle iPhone chimes made it worse. A generic sound for a generic life.

My suit? Gray or navy. My breakfast? A sugar free cereal. My soul? Empty and dead.

It was a good life, but only on paper. I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere out there, people were chasing passions, falling in love, screwing up, and laughing about it later. Not me. I didn’t have a girlfriend, didn’t play sports, and couldn’t remember the last time I did something spontaneous. My biggest achievement lately? Finding a faster way to calculate trade execution latency.

I was weary. Dragging myself through the day.

The one bright spot in my life was Adam, my roommate and de-facto best friend. When we moved in two years ago, I figured it would be a disaster. Instead, I lucked out. He had this way about him, a charisma I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Quick with a joke, even quicker with a laugh.

That's something... isn't it?

----------

At noon, I made my usual trip to the sandwich cart outside the building. I wasn’t the only one – Frankie, one of the other guys on my team – came along. He was taller than me, with the kind of smooth confidence that guaranteed him an easy career.

“Turkey on rye, right?” the sandwich guy asked before I even opened my mouth. I nodded. Just like every other day.

Frankie leaned against the cart, smirking as he waited for his turn.

“So, Kev,” he said, turning to me. “You gonna ever respond to my Grindr messages, or what?”

I nearly choked on air. My brain stuttered. There was no way he thought...

 I stared at him, mouth half-open, but nothing came out.

Frankie laughed, clapping me on the shoulder as if I’d made a joke.

“Relax, man. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

I forced a laugh—or something that sounded like one. The sandwich guy handed me my order, and I grabbed it like it was a lifeline.

“Right,” I mumbled, cheeks burning. “Good one.”

"But for real Kev," Frankie said. "I get that it's weird, us working together, but it's not like... look, I'm kind of a homebody, and your life looks awesome. Why don't you let me tag along sometime?"

I shook my head quickly. "I'm not on Grindr," I said, my voice a little sharper than I intended. "I'm not... I don't use dating apps. Or social media. Or anything like that."

Frankie raised an eyebrow, half-amused. "Seriously? Nothing?"

"Nothing," I said. "I’m boring, Frankie. No hobbies, no apps, no drama. I just go back to my apartment and watch YouTube. And I'm... uh... no offence, but I'm not into guys."

Frankie pulled out his phone, shaking his head as he scrolled.

“Not what this says,” he shrugged. He held out the phone and I blinked at the Grindr profile staring back at me. My photo, my face—but definitely not my account.

“What the hell?” I muttered, grabbing the phone for a closer look. The pictures were real, at least some of them. A photo of me outside my apartment building. One from the office, probably from a company event. My stomach twisted. “My phone must’ve been hacked,” I said quickly denying what I saw.

“Hacked?” Frankie snorted. “Who hacks someone to make a Grindr account? Look at this one.” He swiped to a photo of me at a bar, drink in hand, smiling like I didn’t have a care in the world. It was uncanny — too uncanny. It must have been one of those new AI apps.

“That’s not me,” I said, pointing at it. “I don’t go to bars.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow but kept scrolling. Next was a picture of me at a gym, sweating through a workout.

"Again," I said. "Not me. I hated gym class in school."

And then the worst one yet: a photo of me, shirtless, dancing in some neon-soaked club, my arms raised like I was having the time of my life. The lighting in the image was unmistakable—deep blues and purples, streaked with flashes of pink neon. It looked like something out of a movie, all sweat and movement and energy. In the background, there were guys—dancing, kissing, pressed close in the kind of packed crowd I’d only seen in music videos.

“That's a gay club,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the photo. There I was, grinning, shirtless, moving like I belonged there. Like I did this all the time. My shoulders looked defined, my posture confident. It wasn’t me, but it looked so real I felt like I could almost remember being there.

“Okay, that’s...” I mumbled, more to myself than Frankie. “I’ve never done that. I mean, never. It kind of looks like me though. Freaky.”

Frankie gave a low whistle. “Damn. Well, sorry to hear it’s not you. Especially if the abs are accurate,” he shrugged, never losing that flirting tone. He slid the phone back in his pocket. “Guess I got catfished.”

"Yeah," I nodded, trying not to freak out.  "Could you... uh... send me those pics?"

"Yeah?" Frankie said, raising an eyebrow.  "Like what you see?"

"Nah," I shook my head.  "But I'm curious if there's metadata."

---

I needed space to clear my head. I walked north to the park and found a bench.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the photos. Frankie had airdropped them to me – "You know... you could just get a real Grindr account," he smirked – so hopefully I'd be able to figure out the source. I pulled up reverse image search and uploaded one. This isn't exactly CSI.

Seconds later, Google pulled up a hit. An Instagram profile. My heart sank.

It was me... or rather, someone pretending to be me. The profile was packed with photos—some were real, like me walking around NYC, sitting at the office, or standing outside my apartment. But most were of a life I didn’t recognize. Clubs, parties, rooftop bars. It was the Instagram of a gay party bro living his best life.

My mouth went dry as I scrolled through reels. There were videos of me — fake me — talking to the camera. Workout tips. Reviews of hookups. I felt sick.

They had to be deepfakes. Clones of my voice. Who did I know with those kind of skills? Who would even care enough to prank me like this?

At the top of the profile was a linktree. I clicked, against my better judgment. First a TikTok account — more deepfakes, more videos of this fake version of me posting hookup stories and gym vlogs. Then, an OnlyFans link. My face. My name. Premium muscle bottom videos, it said.

I didn’t click. I didn't dare. My skin crawled.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket and sat there, turkey on rye forgotten, heat prickling the back of my neck. This wasn’t just embarrassing. I felt... violated.

I stared at the ground for a long minute before pulling out my phone. My hands were shaking as I opened my messages and tapped Adam’s name.

Me: Dude. I need you to see this.

I uploaded the photo of me — not me — dancing shirtless in the club. Almost immediately, Adam’s three little dots appeared.

Adam: Whoa!
Adam: Where'd you get that??? You living a double-life on me??
Me: It’s not me!! Someone made a fake account. Instagram, TikTok… they’re even doing OnlyFans...

Adam took a minute to reply. I imagined him staring at his phone, processing what I’d just said.

Adam: WTF?
Me: Exactly.
Adam: Are you okay?

Was I okay? My heart was racing, my face hot, my stomach still twisted into knots. I hovered over the keyboard before typing:

Me: No. Not really.

Adam: Do you wanna come home?  Talk about it for a while?

I let out a shaky breath. Adam was always there for me. That’s the absolute truth.

Me: Can't... I've got work...

There was a pause, then Adam’s next message popped up:

Adam: Look, just… don’t stress too much. I’m sure it’ll blow over.

------

I normally do therapy on Tuesday after work, but luckily they fit me in for an emergency session. I was ready to unload. I sat stiffly in the worn leather chair, staring at Dr. Harris, who watched me with the calm neutrality of someone who’d seen it all.

“So, what’s been on your mind, Kevin?” he asked, his voice even and gentle.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “A lot. Something… weird happened.”

Dr. Harris nodded, leaning forward slightly, his pen ready. 

“Go on.”

I explained everything. The Grindr account, the Instagram profile, the deepfakes. How it wasn’t just photos — they were making videos, cloning my voice, fabricating an entire life I’d never lived. It poured out of me in a tangled mess of words. By the time I finished, my hands were balled into fists on my lap.

Dr. Harris took a moment before responding. “That sounds incredibly unsettling, Kevin.  To say the least.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Violating. It’s like someone took my face and made me… into someone else. Someone I don’t even recognize.”

“And how does that feel for you? To see this version of yourself out there?”

I stared at my shoes, trying to put it into words. “Honestly? It’s embarrassing. I'd never act like that, and... Frankie thought it was really me... is that what my coworkers think of me?”

Dr. Harris raised an eyebrow. “And what if they do?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“Kevin,” he said gently, “it sounds like you’re not just upset about what’s happening. You’re also comparing yourself to this fake version. Why do you think that is?”

I looked up at him, my throat dry.

“I just… I just want it all to go away.”

Dr. Harris studied me for a moment, his pen still. “Is that because it feels invasive, or…” He paused, carefully choosing his words. “Or because part of you wants to live the life you see in those photos?”

My head snapped up, and I stared at him, shocked.

“What? No. Of course not.”

He didn’t press immediately. “Are you sure? This version of you — confident, adventurous, carefree — it seems to have struck a nerve. It’s worth exploring why.”

I opened my mouth to respond but closed it again. I couldn’t deny it entirely. I wanted it gone, yes, but part of me couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop wondering. What would it be like to be that guy?

Dr. Harris leaned back slightly, his voice soft. “It’s okay to admit those feelings, Kevin. You’re allowed to want more for yourself.”

I sank further into the chair, my pulse still pounding. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew one thing: I didn't want to be shirtless at some gay bar.

------

I sat in bed for hours, flicking through photos and videos like they were some alternate reality I'd fallen into.  The light from my phone was bright in the dark, hurting my eyes. There I was — or he was — partying on rooftops with friends, laughing at diners, sweating it out at the gym. 

His life looked lived — parties, adventures, moments that meant something — instead of one endless loop of work, sleep, repeat. It didn’t feel like it came out of a photocopier, endless copies of the same day.

I put down my phone, only to pick it up seconds later. My thumb hovered over the reels. The videos felt worse somehow. My face smiling into the camera, voice cloned to perfection, talking like I was sharing tips on working out or finding the best parties or… hooking up with the hottest guys.

I winced and tossed my phone onto the bed, willing myself to sleep.

What would it be like to live that life? The thought burned through my chest, but I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or shame.

I heard a knock at the door, breaking through my spiralling thoughts. I flinched, sitting up and glancing at the clock. Nearly midnight.

“Kev? You awake?” Adam’s voice was muffled through the door.

I didn’t answer right away, but Adam pushed the door open anyway. He stepped inside, looking concerned as he took in the shadows.

“Hey,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him. “You good?”

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. Fine.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He sat down at the edge of the bed and gestured at my phone. “You’ve been doomscrolling, haven’t you?  Your other life?”

I didn’t reply.  I didn’t want to.

“Kevin...” Adam said carefully. “You know staring at that stuff isn’t gonna help, right?”

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I know. I just… I can’t stop looking at it. It’s like I hate it, but I can’t look away. It’s so… I don’t know. It’s better than my life. I mean, look at him.” I gestured vaguely at the phone.

Adam frowned, his expression unreadable. “Better how?”

I swallowed hard. “He’s got everything. He's cool, he's confident, he's got lots of friends.” I waved a hand at the bare white walls. “He’s out there living. I’m… here.”

Adam was quiet for a moment.

“Let me see,” he said, holding out his hand.

I hesitated, but eventually passed him my phone. Adam scrolled through the fake Instagram profile, his brow furrowed as he flicked between posts. After a few moments, he stopped and squinted at the screen.

“Wait a second,” he muttered, tapping on one of the photos. “Look at this.”

I leaned over as he held the phone out to me. It was a photo of me — the fake me — dancing in the same club again. I recognized the neon lighting immediately, the same deep blue and pink glow cutting through the darkness.

“That’s the same place,” Adam said. “I swear I’ve seen it in a bunch of these pics.” He scrolled through more posts, pulling up another one. “Here. And here again. Dude, he’s there all the time.”

My stomach twisted. “What are you saying?”

Adam looked up at me, his expression serious. “I’m saying maybe we go check it out.”

“What?” I sat up straighter, staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Think about it,” Adam said, his voice calm but firm. “If this guy — whoever he is — keeps posting photos from the same place, there’s a good chance he's a regular. Maybe he'll even be there.”

I shook my head quickly. “No way. I’m not going to some club. Especially not that club.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You scared someone might actually think you’re queer?”

“That’s not funny,” I shot back, crossing my arms.

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Adam said, softer now. “Look, I know this whole thing’s messed up. But maybe sitting around and obsessing isn’t the answer. We can do something about it. Figure out who’s messing with you...”

I stared at him, my heart thudding in my chest. The idea of actually going there — stepping into that world, even just to look for answers — made my skin crawl. But Adam wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t just sit here forever.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

"It's your call," Adam said.  "I won't make you do anything you don't wanna do.”

"I know," I mumbled.  "Look... I just wanna go to sleep.  I'm exhausted.”

He headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth?” He glanced back at me with a small smile. “You’re cooler than you think.”

I didn’t respond as he left, the door clicking softly shut behind him. I sat there in the dark, staring at my phone, the club’s neon lights still glowing on the screen.

I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, but my mind wouldn’t let it go. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that fake version of me — dancing, laughing, confident. The glow of my phone screen was like a beacon, calling me back. Finally, I gave up and grabbed it, the Instagram feed still open. Same photos. Same club. Same fake me, smiling like he had it all figured out.

I groaned, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. My mind wouldn’t let it go. Adam was right. Sitting here obsessing wasn’t helping. I needed answers.

Adam’s door was cracked open, light spilling into the hallway. He was sitting on his bed, scrolling on his phone, but he looked up as I entered.

“Hey,” I said wearily. “Let’s do it.”

Adam blinked at me. “Wait, what?”

“The club,” I said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Let’s go. Right now. Maybe you’re right, and we can figure out who’s doing this.”

Adam’s surprise melted into a small smile.

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

------

We arrived at the club a little after one. The bass was shaking the sidewalk outside, and a line snaked down the block. I tugged at the sleeves of my jacket, feeling out of place.  This was going to take forever.

“Relax,” Adam said, nudging me with his elbow. “You look fine.”

“I look like a tax accountant on his night off,” I muttered.  "Let's just go.  We'll never get to the front of the line.”

Except that the bouncer caught my eye and waved us in.  I glanced over at Adam.  He shrugged.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?”

The music hit me like a wall. Neon lights pulsed overhead — pinks, purples, flashes of white — and bodies crowded together on the dance floor. I kept my head down, feeling every muscle in my body tense as we moved deeper into the crowd.

“Hey girl!” someone sang as I brushed past them. I glanced up to see a guy grinning at me, flushed and sweaty and shirtless. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight, but damn, I’m happy you’re here. Overdressed, though, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sorry?” I mumbled, confused. Before I could say anything else, he’d disappeared into the crowd.

“What was that about?” Adam asked, leaning closer so I could hear him over the music.

“I don’t know,” I shouted. “Let’s talk to the bartender. Maybe he knows something.”

We pushed our way to the bar, where a tall guy with a shaved head was slinging drinks with practiced efficiency. I opened my mouth to ask something, but before I could say a word, he looked up and grinned.

“Well, well,” the bartender said, leaning on the bar like he was talking to an old friend. “Back already? Thought you’d worn yourself out last time.”

I blinked. “What?”

The bartender nodded at Adam, who looked equally confused. “You two are practically regulars around here. Your usual?”

“Our usual?” I echoed, feeling my pulse quicken.

“Go work up a sweat,” the bartender said with a wink. “I’ll have them ready for you in a few.”

I turned to Adam, my heart pounding in my chest. “Our usual?”

Adam’s face had gone pale, and he didn’t meet my eyes. Something clicked in my head, sharp and sudden.

“Adam,” I said slowly, my voice low. “What did you do?”

Adam’s face had gone pale, and he didn’t meet my eyes. Something clicked in my head, sharp and sudden. I shoved through the crowd and made my way toward the exit, ignoring the music pounding in my ears. Adam followed close behind, calling my name, but I didn’t stop until we were outside in the cold night air.

“Kevin, wait—” Adam started.

I spun on him, my breath misting in the air. “What did you do, Adam?”

“Calm down,” he said, holding his hands up. “Just let me explain.”

“Explain what?” I snapped. “How the hell does everyone in there know me? How do they know us? What’s going on?”

Adam hesitated, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not fake, Kev. The pictures, the videos… they’re real. That’s you.”

I stared at him, my head spinning. “That’s not possible.”

“It is,” Adam said quietly, meeting my eyes. “Because I’m the one who made it possible... I’ve been hypnotizing you.”

The world tilted. I stumbled back a step, shaking my head. “What? That’s… no. No way.”

Adam met my eyes, his expression pained. “I’ve been hypnotizing you, Kev. Every night since you moved in. You’re sweet, but… dull. I wanted more from you. From my boyfriend.”

“Your what?” My voice cracked. “We’re not boyfriends, Adam. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean... not when you’re think this,” Adam said, shrugging helplessly. “I drew a line in your mind. During the day, you’re boring old Kevin, working your dumb job and making money for rich assholes. But at night…” He smiled faintly. “Once I give you the trigger, it’s like watching you blossom. You become someone else. Someone better.”

“Someone better?” I repeated, my voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” Adam said softly. “We hang out, we go on adventures, we… fool around. You love it, Kev. You really do. We end up here a lot. Usually till two or three in the morning. And then it’s of to bed, and a few hours later...”

“It’s the same day all over again...” I whispered horsely. “Boring old Kevin... at least until the sun goes does.”

My body tensed first, like I was fighting against an invisible weight. I felt Adam step back instinctively, but I couldn’t focus on him. My brow furrowed, my jaw locked tight, every muscle in my body straining as though I was caught between two warring forces. For a moment, I thought I might double over, collapse under the pressure. But instead, I froze. Completely still. Locked in place.

“Kev?” Adam’s voice cut through the haze, cautious, faint over the distant thrum of the club’s bass.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My face twitched; my jaw ached from clenching so hard. My breath came fast and shallow as I gripped my head like I could hold myself together through sheer will.

“N-no,” I ground out through gritted teeth. My voice sounded strangled, desperate. “I… I don’t want this…”

Even as I said it, I felt the fight begin to slip away. The war inside me wavered, flickering like a candle about to burn out. Slowly, my arms dropped to my sides, and my breathing began to even out. The tension I’d been holding drained away, inch by inch, until it was gone. The change wasn’t instant; it was gradual, unnervingly smooth, like watching ink spread through water.

My shoulders rolled back. My posture straightened. My chin lifted, and I let out a slow, steady breath as though I’d been holding it for hours. When I looked up at Adam, I felt the grin take shape on my lips—familiar, but not the same. It wasn’t soft or uncertain anymore. It was sharper. Intentional.

“You okay there?” I asked, and even I heard the difference in my voice. It was lower now, smoother—too smooth.

My body tensed first, like I was fighting against an invisible weight. I felt Adam step back instinctively, but I couldn’t focus on him. My brow furrowed, my jaw locked tight, every muscle in my body straining as though I was caught between two warring forces. For a moment, I thought I might double over, collapse under the pressure. But instead, I froze. Completely still. Locked in place.

“Kevin?” Adam’s voice cut through the haze, cautious, faint over the distant thrum of the club’s bass.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My face twitched; my jaw ached from clenching so hard. My breath came fast and shallow as I gripped my head like I could hold myself together through sheer will.

“N-no,” I ground out through gritted teeth. My voice sounded strangled, desperate. “I… I don’t want this…”

Even as I said it, I felt the fight begin to slip away. The war inside me wavered, flickering like a candle about to burn out. Slowly, my arms dropped to my sides, and my breathing began to even out. The tension I’d been holding drained away, inch by inch, until it was gone. The change wasn’t instant; it was gradual, unnervingly smooth, like watching ink spread through water.

My shoulders rolled back. My posture straightened. My chin lifted, and I let out a slow, steady breath as though I’d been holding it for hours. When I looked up at Adam, I felt the grin take shape on my lips—familiar, but not the same. It wasn’t soft or uncertain anymore. It was cocky. Self-assured. Perfect.

“You okay there?” I asked, and even I heard the difference in my voice. It was lower now, smoother—too smooth.

Adam’s eyes widened slightly, his expression shifting to something close to awe.

“Kevin... what’s going on?”

I tilted my head, letting the grin stretch wider. “Oh, Adam,” I said, rolling my eyes like he was the slowest guy alive. “Kev. It’s Kev now. And trust me, I’m feeling better than ever.”

Adam’s lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “No... this isn’t… this isn’t you.”

“Pfft. Duh, it’s me,” I shot back, letting out a short, arrogant laugh. “You just finally let me out to play.” I straightened up further, rolling my shoulders again and stretching out like I had all the time in the world. “Man, it feels good. You’ve been keeping me locked up tight, huh?”

“You’re… not supposed to be here without the trigger,” Adam said slowly, frowning as though trying to make sense of it.

“Yeah, well, good job keeping me in check, genius,” I quipped, running a hand through my hair with an exaggerated flourish. “Kid let his guard down. And boom—here I am, all kinds of awesome.”

Adam opened his mouth to argue, but I didn’t let him get a word in.

“Don’t get all worked up,” I said, waving a dismissive hand at him. “You wanted me, right? The better version of Kevin. The one who isn’t glued to spreadsheets and boring YouTube videos.” I grinned wide enough to show teeth. “Well, congratulations. You nailed it.”

Adam blinked, his awe lingering as he watched me. I turned on my heel before he could kill my vibe and strode toward the club entrance. The bouncer barely glanced at me this time, just nodded like we were best buddies.

------

The crowd swallowed us as I moved through the club, my steps confident and smooth. I swerved through the bodies like I owned the place. I mean, let’s be honest—I kind of did. Adam trailed behind me like a lost puppy, still looking at me like I’d just pulled off a miracle. I ignored him.

I leaned against the bar like I was on a billboard for expensive cologne.

“Back so soon?” the bartender said, already reaching under the bar.

I flashed him a cocky smile. “You know me.”

A wink and two seconds later, he set down a shot of bourbon and two Black Russians. I grabbed the bourbon first, slamming it back without a flinch. The burn hit hard, but I loved it.

I slid one of the Black Russians toward Adam, who was still standing there like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Here,” I said, smirking. “Loosen up a little, man. You’re embarrassing me.”

Adam’s fingers curled around the glass, and he shook his head with an exasperated smile. “Kev, this is insane.”

“No, what’s insane is how much time I’ve wasted being boring,” I corrected, knocking back half of my drink in one go. “You’re welcome, by the way. I’m way more fun now.”

Before he could reply, I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the dance floor.

“Kev—wait—” he started, but his words got lost in the music. I was already laughing, loud and bright, as the bass thumped through my chest. The lights spun overhead, casting wild streaks of color across the crowd, and I let it all wash over me. I tossed back the rest of my drink and ditched the glass with a jockstrap-clad busboy, not missing a beat.

My body moved naturally, effortlessly, like I was made for this. The crowd pressed around me, their rhythm matching mine, and I let myself fall into it. I threw my head back, grinning so wide it hurt. This was the life. This was me.

Adam watched me, his drink still in hand, awe still plastered across his face. It made me laugh harder.

“See?” I called over the music, turning to face him. “This is what you wanted, Adam. Isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at me like I was some kind of miracle.

Damn right I was.

------

The walk back to the apartment was a blur. I was still buzzing from the drinks, the lights, the energy of the club pulsing in my veins. Adam trailed close behind, quieter now, like he was trying to process everything. I didn’t care. I felt good.

By the time we stumbled into the apartment, I kicked the door shut behind us, tossing my jacket onto the couch. Adam lingered in the doorway, watching me carefully.

“What’s the matter?” I teased, smirking at him. “You scared I'm gonna bite?”

“No. I'm just..." he stammered.  "I didn't trigger you.  I don't know if you'll be gone in the morning.”

“I'm not goin' anywhere” I shot him a cocky grin. “You’re welcome.”

I walked up to him, closing the gap between us. He didn’t step back. I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, like he wasn’t sure whether he should stop me or let me keep going. I leaned in, close enough to feel his breath hitch.

“You like this, don’t you?” I murmured, my voice low and teasing.

Adam didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I could see it all over his face.

I grabbed his shirt, tugging him forward, and kissed him. He froze for half a second before his arms came up around me, pulling me closer. The kiss was messy, intense, all heat and unspoken words. I laughed softly against his lips, pushing him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

Adam sat down hard, and I didn’t hesitate. I climbed into his lap, straddling him as I kissed him again, deeper this time. His hands found my waist, hesitant at first but growing bolder as I grinned against his mouth.

I slipped my hand below his waistline, massaging his hole with my finger. He couldn’t help but his against it gently. My boyfriend is 100% bottom. He moaned and I could feel his cock pressing through his jeans.

Which means it’s time to lose the jeans. I unbuttoned them and pushed them over Adam’s ass and down his legs. I could feel him pulling off my belt. I’d lost my shirt and jacket somewhere at the club. My chest was already dripping with other people’s sweat.

I reached inside his jockstrap and stroked his cock.

“You like that?” I whispered in his ear. “Like being my slut, don’tcha?”

I push him backward and he landed on the bed, his cock pushing out against his jock. Fuck he looked sexy. I crawled on top of him, pinning him down and kissing him deeply. I worked my way down his torso, flicking my tongue across his nipples until they were hard, then moved down and tugged off his jockstrap.

His fat cock hit me right in the face. I fuckin’ loved it.

He was dripping with precum. I licked it off greedily, then took a deep breath and plunged onto his cock. I love the way Adam’s cock tastes, and when he shoots his load... it’s so hot feeling his whole body buck with pleasure.

It didn’t take long before he blew his load down my throat. I’m like... a really good cocksucker.

I barely gave him time to breathe before I flipped him over and buried my face between his cheeks. Adam’s got a real live bubble butt, and I just can’t resist an eager bottom. I spent a few minutes eating ass, enjoying the way he moaned. He was still in afterglow, so every little touch was electric.

“You want me to fuck you?” I asked, fingering his hole while I whispered into his ear. “I wanna fuck your hole so bad...”

He shifted his weight under me, spreading his legs and giving me easy access. Like I said, my boyfriend is a total bottom.

“Yes please...” he groaned, his words muffled by the pillow.

I slipped on a condom and added some lube. Adam doesn’t take much prep – he’s had a lot of practice. I lined everything up and slipped inside him slowly, half an inch at a time. His breathing changed, getting faster and faster as I filled him with cock.

“That’s right baby,” I grunted, holding his hips and thrusting. “Take that fuckin’ cock. You wanted a boyfriend who likes to party... guess what baby.... you got what you wanted... no more boring ‘Kevin’ shit all day... you got a fuckboy stud now... 24/7...”

He was gasping in his pillow. I was out of control, going as fast as I could, slamming his ass over and over with my monster cock. My whole body was dripping with sweat, every muscle flexed and working... I was gonna... I was gonna...

My cock pulsed and jerked inside his ass. I emptied my load inside of Adam, collapsing next to him on the bed.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” I grunted, laying back on the bed and pulling him close to me. He nuzzled into my armpit, taking a long sniff and relaxing into me.

I got maybe... three hours of sleep? No wonder I’m always exhausted.

------

It had been two weeks since I’d taken over, and Adam still woke me up every morning like clockwork. Today was no different—his hand on my shoulder, firm and insistent.

“Kev. Come on, wake up,” he said, his voice soft but edging on worried now.

I groaned loudly, burying my face deeper into the pillow. My body felt heavy, my head a dull throb.

“Seriously,” Adam added. “You’re gonna be late for work. Again.”

The words finally wormed their way through my foggy brain. Work. I cracked one eye open, squinting at him through the sunlight slicing in from the blinds. Adam stood there, already dressed, his brow furrowed in concern.

“What time is it?” I croaked. My voice came out rough, like I’d swallowed sandpaper.

“Almost eight-thirty. Same as yesterday. Same as last week.”

I groaned, rolling onto my back and flinging an arm dramatically over my face. My body ached like I’d run a marathon. Everything felt wrong. Still. Two weeks, and I couldn’t shake this constant heaviness.

“I’m good,” I muttered, though it sounded like a lie even to me. “Tell them I’m dead.”

Adam snorted but didn’t look amused. “Kev, seriously. You’re a mess. You keep skipping work, barely answering emails, ignoring calls... what’s going on? You’re going to get yourself fired if you keep this up.”

His voice was firm, but it dripped with concern too. That somehow made it worse. I forced a grin—one I didn’t believe for a second—and waved him off.

“What, you don’t like this version of me now?” I teased, though my voice wavered slightly. “Thought you said I was more fun.”

Adam’s frown deepened. “Kev, this isn’t fun. Yeah, I thought I wanted a boyfriend with a bit more personality, but... you're not okay. I don’t even think you know what day it is half the time.”

His words hit harder than they should have. Something in the way he lingered there—half annoyed, half worried—made me feel unsteady, like I was on the edge of something I couldn’t control. Deep inside me, something shifted—a ripple, a voice straining to get free.

You’re slipping, it whispered.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I forced the thought back down. Not now. Not today.

Finally, Adam sighed and grabbed his bag.

“Just eat something, alright?” he said, voice softer. “And call me if you need anything. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go make rent,” I shot back, my smirk feeling stiff. The door clicked shut behind him, and I let the grin fall like a mask I was tired of holding up.

Two weeks, and it wasn’t getting easier. Adam created my personality to be a fuckboy party slut. I was never supposed to work a nine to five. That’s what he was for—the boring side of me.

The boring side that I’d vanquished. Or so I thought.

Dragging myself to the bathroom felt like trudging through concrete. I splashed water on my face, desperate to skip the workday and get back to the fun parts. I gave myself a self-assured grin — smug, confident, cocky. It felt forced. Something about the eyes.

“You good?” I asked the mirror, forcing the words out through a hollow laugh. The grin didn’t falter, but something pulled tight in my chest. A flicker of panic.

You can’t keep this up, the voice whispered again, louder this time. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edge of the sink.

“No,” I said firmly, though it sounded like I was convincing myself. "You're gone. I won. It’s just me now.”

But the voice fought back, faint but persistent, like nails scratching inside my skull. I’m still here, it whispered. You need me.

“Shut up,” I growled, staring at my reflection as though I could intimidate it into silence. For a split second, my grin faltered in the mirror, replaced by something tighter—something that looked an awful lot like Kevin.

You can’t keep me down forever.

I shook my head violently, water dripping from my chin as I straightened up. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Getting dressed was no better. Kevin’s clothes—the plain button-up, the stiff jeans—felt suffocating. It was like I was wearing someone else’s skin. His skin. The shoes, the office clothes, the routine. It wasn’t mine, and I hated it. But I couldn't exactly show up in club wear, could I?

Work was hell. I sat in Kevin’s cubicle, staring blankly at the screen as code flowed past me. I tried to type. I tried to focus. But my hands were shaking, and my brain felt like static. That voice—his voice—was louder now, clawing at the edges of my mind.

Let me out.

“Shut up,” I hissed under my breath.

Frankie shot me a strange look as he walked by. I forced a too-wide smile and waved him off, but my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Ever since I sucked him in the bathroom, he’d been acting all weird, and it didn’t help me feel any less off-kilter.

Adam was wrong about one thing.  I knew what day it was.  Tuesday.  I'd blown off therapy two weeks in a row, but today...

The subway ride to the therapist’s office was a blur of noise and flickering lights. I leaned my head against the train, my eyes squeezed shut as Kevin’s voice clawed its way upward, louder, sharper.

Let me out. You can’t do this without me.

“You can’t win,” I muttered to myself, my voice cracking.

But I wasn’t so sure anymore.

------

Dr. Hughes’s office smelled like lavender and antiseptic. The combination made my head ache more, but I sat down anyway, slumping into the well-worn armchair across from her. She watched me carefully, her pen poised above her notebook.

“You’re looking worse today, Kev,” she said, her voice steady, calm. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re not gonna believe me.”

“Try me,” she said, unphased. Her gaze stayed steady, like she’d heard it all before.

I hesitated, feeling Kevin stir at the back of my mind, a nagging whisper just on the edge of hearing. I gripped the arms of the chair tighter.

“It’s Adam,” I said finally. “He hypnotized me.”

"Your roommate?" Dr. Hughes’s pen paused, hovering just above the notebook. “Hypnotized you?”

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard. “Adam… he’s into all this weird hypnotism stuff. Said he could make me loosen up, have more fun. And… I guess it worked.”

Her expression didn’t change, so I kept going. “He created this version of me—Kev. The guy who doesn’t stress about work or bills or… anything. The guy who just parties all night. And honestly?” I laughed bitterly. “It felt good. Still does. For the first time, I didn’t have to care. I didn’t have to work some soul-sucking job or think about whether I was good enough.”

Dr. Hughes tilted her head slightly, studying me. “And now?”

“Now?” I scoffed, leaning forward, my elbows digging into my knees. “Now Kevin won’t shut up. He’s still in there, whining about emails and spreadsheets and alarm clocks. Like I’m supposed to care about that crap.” I shook my head, my voice rising. “I’m not cut out for that life. Waking up early, dragging myself into that cubicle farm, staring at numbers all day? It’s miserable. It’s not me. I’d rather be out dancing. Drinking. Living.”

Her pen scratched quietly against the notebook, her gaze still steady, patient. “So you think you don’t need Kevin—the side of you that can manage responsibility?”

“No,” I said quickly, then paused. The words sat awkwardly on my tongue. “I mean… maybe? I don’t know. Look, I didn’t ask for any of this. Adam made me this way, and now I’m stuck in the middle of it. I can’t go back to the old Kevin, but I can’t…” I trailed off, exhaling sharply. “I can’t do this either.”

“Kev,” she said gently, leaning forward. “Listen to me. You’re describing two extremes. One version of you is so consumed by responsibility that he forgets to live. The other avoids responsibility so completely that he loses himself in indulgence. Neither of those versions can exist on their own for long.”

“So what, you’re saying I need to find some balance?” I asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes,” she said simply. “What if instead of suppressing Kevin, you learned to work with him? What if the answer is merging the two sides of you—bringing together your sense of fun and freedom with your ability to care for yourself?”

I stared at her, disbelief settling like a weight in my chest. “Merging? That sounds impossible.”

“It might be,” she admitted. “But I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Kevin stirred again, louder now. I could feel him pressing at the edges of my mind, whispering that this was stupid, that I should just walk out. But something inside me wavered.

“Fine,” I muttered after a long pause, the word leaving me like a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Let’s do it.”

Dr. Hughes smiled faintly. “Alright. Close your eyes. Breathe with me.”

I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes as instructed. My breath came shaky at first, but I followed her voice—slow, deliberate, coaxing me into something softer.

“In through the nose,” she murmured. "Out through the mouth. Good. Let the noise quiet down. Focus on my voice.”

I drifted deeper, the edges of my awareness softening, her voice the only thing tethering me to the room.

“Kev,” she said eventually, her tone gentle but firm, “I want you to picture Kevin. See him. Let him step forward.”

Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck rose.

No. Don’t.

“Relax,” she coaxed, as though she could hear my thoughts. “You’re safe here.”

The resistance weakened, and I could see him — me, but not me. Kevin stood there, his posture slouched, his expression uncertain but determined.

“Kevin,” Dr. Hughes addressed him, “I want you to step closer to Kev. I want the two of you to look at each other.”

Kevin didn’t move. I didn’t move.

“It’s time to talk,” she said softly. “Kev, what do you want to say to Kevin?”

I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. Finally, I muttered, “I hate you.”

Kevin blinked but didn’t look surprised. “Yeah? I hate you too.”

“You ruined everything,” I snapped, the words spilling out. “You made me miserable. You’re weak, pathetic, and you let everyone walk all over you. You hid behind a desk and told yourself that was living.”

Kevin’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady when he replied. “And you’re reckless. Selfish. You don’t care about anyone, including yourself. You’d rather burn everything down than deal with reality. That’s not living, Kev. That’s running away.”

I flinched, my hands curling into fists. “I’m free. I do what I want, when I want. That’s more than you can say.”

“Free?” Kevin shot back, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a prisoner to your impulses. You’re no freer than I was, trapped behind that desk.”

Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. I wanted to argue, to throw something back at him, but his words cut too close.

Dr. Hughes’s voice broke the quiet. “Kev, Kevin… what do you admire about each other?”

We both turned to her, startled. I looked at Kevin, scowling. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” Kevin said quietly. He sighed and looked at me with something that felt like understanding. “I wish I had your confidence. Your ability to let go and just… be in the moment. You don’t care what anyone thinks. I envy that.”

The words landed heavier than I expected. I stared at him, my anger faltering. “Yeah? Well… I wish I had your focus. Your drive. You… you stick with things. You don’t just quit when it gets hard.”

I swallowed hard, the tension in my chest shifting to something else—something I couldn’t name.

Dr. Hughes’s voice floated through the space, calm and steady. “You two have strengths the other needs. So let’s negotiate. What would you like to keep?”

I looked at Kevin, and he looked at me. It was weird, staring at my own face and seeing someone so uptight. He sat there all stiff, like he was bracing for an audit. Me? I sprawled back in my seat like I owned the place, arms draped lazily behind my head. I flashed him my best smirk—the one that could get me anything I wanted.

“Confidence,” I said, not missing a beat. “Charisma. And a life worth living. You know, the stuff you wouldn’t recognize if it danced in front of you.”

Kevin’s face tightened, his back straight as a rod. “Discipline. Focus. And stability. You burn through everything like it’s disposable, Kev. You think this is sustainable?”

“And you think your life is worth living?” I shot back, my grin turning sharper. “Clock in, clock out, rinse, repeat. You’re a hamster on a wheel, and you call that stability? I’ll take a wild night over that monotony any day.”

“At least I don’t self-destruct every chance I get,” Kevin countered, his voice steady but cold. “You act like being aimless is some kind of freedom. It’s not. It’s a dead end.”

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Hughes interjected, her calm voice firm enough to stop us both. “Extremes won’t get you anywhere. You’re here to find balance. So let’s ask a different question: What do you admire in each other?”

I scoffed but leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Fine. I’ll play along. Kevin doesn’t quit. You stick to things—even when they suck. You’re stubborn as hell. I guess I’d call that impressive.”

Kevin looked surprised for half a second, but then he gave a small nod. “You’re confident,” he said slowly. “People notice you. You don’t second-guess yourself. I wish I had even half of that.”

“Takes talent, buddy,” I replied, grinning, though I didn’t add any more snark.

Kevin sighed. “But you don’t think ahead. You chase what feels good now without worrying about the consequences. I don’t want that. I need focus.”

“Fine. You get your focus. But we keep my social life,” I shot back. “Because let’s face it—yours is nonexistent. I’d be doing us both a favor.”

He didn’t argue with that. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose like I was giving him a headache. “And I want stability. We can’t keep living like this. Someone has to keep us grounded.”

“So, confidence, charisma, focus, stability, and a social life,” Dr. Hughes summarized, her tone even. “Anything else?”

For a second, neither of us spoke. I glanced at Kevin’s face—the same face as mine, but with a softness I didn’t know I could have.

“Love,” I said quietly. It came out before I could stop it, and I cleared my throat to cover up how real it sounded. “For Adam. We’re keeping that.”

Kevin looked at me, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “For Adam.”

Dr. Hughes smiled faintly, like she’d been waiting for that moment. “Good. Now… are you both ready to bring those parts together?”

I looked at Kevin, and he looked at me. For the first time, it didn’t feel like staring at my enemy. I raised an eyebrow and smirked, but this time there was no bite behind it. “Alright, Kevin. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

He shook his head, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Let’s see if you can grow up.”

We both nodded. I didn’t know exactly what was about to happen, but for the first time, we weren’t tearing each other apart. We were pulling ourselves together—and building something new.

The merging began slowly, like two rivers meeting in the jungle. For a moment, I could feel everything — myself as Kev, my mind loud and reckless, and Kevin, steady and persistent. It was like two currents rushing toward each other, colliding. The force of it reverberated through me, sharp at first, then spreading.

It felt like every part of me was stretching, pulling, as if my body couldn’t decide which way to settle. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, pounding in my ears, as though it didn’t belong to just me anymore. My arms twitched, like my muscles didn’t know whether to slump in exhaustion or straighten with purpose.

My mind… our mind… was louder. Kev was there, like a fire burning bright and hot, and Kevin stood like a wall against it. I felt myself—Kev—pushing, resisting, but Kevin wasn’t backing down. It wasn’t a fight, exactly, but it wasn’t peaceful either. It was negotiation in its rawest form.

You can’t snuff me out, I thought, feeling the part of me that was Kev roar defiantly.

"I don’t want to,” I responded. Kevin's voice was calm, but solid. "I need you… but you need me too."

The words echoed inside me, as if they weren’t just spoken but etched into my bones. A pull of gravity settled in my chest, and I could feel Kev’s energy weaving with Kevin’s resolve. I started to breathe easier—my breaths synchronized, no longer fighting against myself.

The tension started to dissolve. My shoulders straightened, not because I was forcing myself to, but because it felt natural. My heartbeat steadied into something sure and unshakable. I felt taller somehow, like I fit into my own skin in a way I never had before.

I wasn’t just Kev anymore. I wasn’t just Kevin.

We’re both here, I realized, the thought settling into place like a final piece of a puzzle. And this is better.

The last trace of resistance burned away like morning mist, leaving something solid and clear. Confidence mixed with focus. Charisma balanced by stability. For the first time, I didn’t feel pulled in opposite directions.

I opened my eyes, and Dr. Hughes was watching me. My reflection in the window across the room caught my eye. I looked the same… but not. I looked sharper. More alive. Kevin and Kev, finally one person.

“How do you feel?” Dr. Hughes asked softly.

I sat up straighter and smiled, a real smile that felt both easy and earned. “Better,” I said. “Like I’m finally me.”

------

For the first time, I wasn’t at war with myself. My alarm didn’t drag me out of bed anymore. I was awake before it blared, throwing off my sheets and heading straight to the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me? Perfectly familiar and yet completely transformed. My shoulders sat straighter. My muscles cut sharper. The smirk — my smirk — was effortless. The kind of grin that said, Yeah, I’m that guy. And underneath it all, there was something deeper—purpose. I didn’t just look good. I looked like someone who knew exactly who he was and where he was going.

At work, I walked into that Manhattan office like I owned the entire floor. Hell, maybe I did. Kev’s confidence mixed with Kevin’s work ethic was a cheat code for success, and everyone noticed.

“Kevin,” my boss said one day, hovering at my cubicle like he was trying to figure me out. “You… you’ve really turned things around. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but keep it up.”

“Glad you’re noticing, sir,” I replied, leaning back in my chair like it was a throne, the barest hint of a smile tugging at my lips. My work spoke for itself now—sharp, clean, ahead of the curve. I didn’t need their approval, but I didn’t mind them scrambling to keep up with me.

Even Frankie, the guy who’d once called me out at the sandwich cart, couldn’t meet my eyes without blushing. “You… uh… you look different lately,” he muttered, tripping over his words.

“Good different?” I asked, my tone just this side of teasing.

“Yeah,” he stammered, cheeks turning red. “Definitely.”

It was easy now—easier than it had any right to be. My weekends were a blur of rooftop dinners, exclusive parties, and networking events where the right people shook my hand and remembered my name. But I wasn’t losing myself in it. The Kevin part of me made sure I always had my priorities straight. I’d hit the gym hard on Monday morning, deliver my A-game in meetings, and code up algorithms that other guys couldn’t touch. And come Friday? I’d walk into a club like a storm and own the night.

The gym, of course, had become my second home. Kev had shown me how much power came from taking care of my body, and Kevin gave me the discipline to stick with it. Early-morning runs in Central Park, lunchtime lifts at the YMCA, and weekends spent playing pickup soccer with a group of guys I’d met at a networking event — because apparently, I did those now too. I didn’t even have to try to post on social media — my life practically was content. I wasn’t surprised when my Instagram hit 100k followers. Or when it hit a million.

The captions wrote themselves. A photo of me leaning on a high-rise balcony at sunset: "Work hard. Play harder." Another of me shirtless at the beach with a cocktail in hand: "Who said balance was impossible?" A gym reel with a smirk into the camera: "You don’t get here by accident.”

But the real prize wasn’t the followers. It was Adam.

If you’d told me a month ago that I’d forgive him—that I’d love him—I’d have laughed in your face. But things were different now. Adam had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? I wasn’t some fragile workaholic, or a self-destructive burnout. I was Kevin, and I was Kev.

And Adam?

Adam couldn’t keep his hands off me.

“I don’t even know how you do it,” he murmured one night, his arms wrapped around me as we lay on his bed, my bare chest rising and falling beneath him.

“Do what?” I asked, half grinning as I ran a hand through his hair.

“Be all of this.” His voice was awed, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real. “You’re unstoppable, Kevin. Everyone sees it. I see it.”

I laughed softly, pulling him closer until our foreheads touched. “You started this, remember? Maybe you should take some credit.”

Adam shook his head, smiling. “No. This… this is all you.”

I kissed him then, long and deep, because what else could I do? For the first time in my life, I felt like I had it all: the job, the body, the life. A million followers couldn’t compete with the way Adam looked at me.

This was the life I’d fought for—and it was mine.