Grindr Generation a fictional partwork by Dante Harker

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Chapter Two
Leave it alone, you’ll make it sore


Watching a video of his closest, if somewhat recent, friend hammer into a super skinny twink was sadly nothing new these days. As he watched overly long limbs flaying around, he wondered what had become of his life. It was certainly a huge change from this time last year.

Ten years with his ex and his hetero-normative life was now just a collection of bitter memories. Thank goodness they’d been turned down for that Asian baby or things could have been much worse.

‘This flat really isn’t suitable for children,’ Toby said to his cat who was sound asleep on his computer’s keyboard. The smile of amusement at his friend’s uber-tanned and muscled body at the side of the milky-white teen fell from his face at the thought of times past.

‘Don’t dwell,’ he said in the general direction of the cat, as he got up to make himself a coffee. He loved his cat, he had always been prone to speaking out loud but at least owning a cat made him feel a little less crazy.

‘I didn’t need to see that – are you sure he’s not a rag doll the way you’ve been throwing him around. Though kudos on keeping the camera so steady,’ he texted Jamie.

The reply, clearly typed with one hand, said ‘biggg finisshh’, followed by another recording of the action, this time - climatic.

The kettle clicked and after making a strong coffee.

‘What the fuck was that! – Did you just kill that boy? And how much cum was that he looks like you just threw a carton of gone-off milk into his face.’

‘He liked it,’ Jamie texted back. A little too quickly for someone who only seconds ago had finished having sex.

‘He didn’t look like he liked it. And he sounded like he was choking, send a pic of him now so I know he’s not dead.’ Toby stretched out on his settee, he made himself comfortable but not so much so as he knew that sleep would take him. Try as Toby might he couldn’t sleep in after seven in the morning and now, in the late afternoon, he knew he would need a nap very soon if he were to survive the night out later.

‘He isn’t dead, and if he was I wouldn’t tell you by text.’

‘Would you at least show me the grave?’

‘Of course.’

Cream-a-lot – a name that seemed less sexual when Toby’s cat was still tiny and used to get cream all over his cute little whiskers, got up from where he had been laid out across the laptop keyboard, and stretched. This caused the machine to beep in near hysterical protest. The cat glared at the beeping with lazy indignation and made his way over to Toby.

‘Is the alien boy still there? If he is, ask him if he could taste that you had a green smoothie for lunch – I bet he could. Most likely why he’s dead now.’ Toby chuckled, he liked making himself laugh. Cream-a-lot jumped onto his chest and tried to sit down with his arse pointing into Toby’s face.

‘You can’t sit like that, don’t sit like that,’ Toby said trying to get the cat to sit in a more suitable position. Each time Toby went to reposition the cat he jumped off and glared back. He tried three more times to get arse-to-face and then sulked off into the kitchen to flick his food around.

‘Try and keep it in the bowl!’ Toby yelled after him and went back to his phone.   

‘So just to be clear, no one is out with us tonight?’ Over the last few months, Toby had learned that if Jamie were a celebrity, he would have been labelled as having a sex addiction, and there would have been some form of intervention. A high sex drive was one thing, but Jamie would quite often wank into double figures and have sex with at least one lad a day.

This didn’t bother Toby, once he learned that, if his friend went quiet for ten minutes, it was nothing Toby had said to upset him.

Thankfully, the lads that Jamie went for were super-skinny alien types that Toby was sure were produced by some form of cloning process. These kinds of guys were not Toby’s type, which led to no feelings of jealous other than at the sheer stamina his friend possessed.

‘No, there isn’t anyone going out with us tonight,’ Jamie replied.

‘That’s a yet, though, isn’t it?’

‘Of course, there’s a good few hours before you even come over here what am I meant to do until then if it's not talking to potentials?’

‘You should probably get a hobby you know,’ Toby replied, noting the irony at the fact that he was doing the same as his friend, jumping back and forward to between Whatsapp and Grindr.

‘I have a hobby,’ Jamie replied, the messaged followed in quick succession by a bunch of screen-grabbed images from Grindr.

‘Fucking alien boys is not a hobby? I don’t think that counts as a hobby,’ Toby sent then noted that the fifth picture that had come through was someone he had considered messaging. ‘That counts that one out then,’ Toby said to the cat as walked back into the living room. ‘Look at the mess you’re making,’ Toby said as the cat left paw prints on the laminate from where he had been standing in his food.

It’s as much of a hobby as chatting to guys and then not having the courage to meet them.’

‘I don’t do that!’ Toby snapped back in reply.

‘I tell you what, send me a screen grab of the message screen in Grindr, and if there aren't at least five unfinished conversations and at least one asking if you’re out tonight that you haven’t replied to then you win, and I’ll get a hobby.’

Toby read his message screen. There were countless ‘hi’ messages from guys who weren’t his type, many from guys who were most likely no one’s type. There were messages where the guy hadn’t bothered to write any text instead they’d just opened with a picture of their pulled-open arse.

And there were the ‘I should reply but I just can’t’ messages. The ones Jamie was talking about. They asked if he was still there or if something had been said to cause offence. And, the worst of all, a couple that was asking if he was out tonight because they were and they would definitely say hello.

‘I’m not sending you that screen-shot so shut up, you know I’m not ready to meet guys.’

Okay, princess, I know,’ Jamie replied.

Don’t call me princess and do you have to be such a dick all the time?’ Cream-a-lot wondered past, and Toby picked him up and pulled him to his chest. The cat took the hug and rubbed his head up against Toby’s chin.

‘I’m sorry, I get it, dead boyfriend, can’t have sex until the wounds heal.’ And there it was, the mention of the dead boyfriend and the reason that Toby needed the cat to hug. ‘We won’t cry will we, cat, there’s been enough crying’.

‘What if you got really drunk tonight and some guy just took you home and had his way with you. I know you’re meant to be top but if you’re not going to fuck guys perhaps them fucking you might be healing.’

‘Did you hear that on Oprah? I’m sure that’s what she’s forever telling people who have lost the love of their lives.’ And now the tears came.

‘The love of that part of your life – I’m sorry I’m being an arse aren’t I?  You should tell me sooner. Still, a good bum raping might do you good – what do you think?’

‘Yes, that part of my life. Just those twelve years, what’s twelve years, Creamy, hey? It’s nothing. Though perhaps I should get bummed. Do you think I’d like that?’ Cream-a-lot head butted Toby in the chin hard enough that his teeth knocked together and sent a jolt of pain through his jaw. ‘No, me neither’.

Did I upset you?’ Came the message from Jamie when Toby hadn’t replied.

The message caused Toby to smile, though it struck him as suspect given that it was almost apologetic and that really wasn’t Jamie’s style. He was a man who believed himself much too smart to ever be wrong. And suspect the message was; moments later a picture came through of a naked, passible-looking twenty-something, holding his large and almost brutal looking cock in his hand.

‘What about him, he looks like he could ruin you, even if you were wasted he’d still get that thing in for sure.’

It was this kind of aggressive banter, this not pussy-footing around that Toby found so novel about Jamie’s friendship. When Toby’s partner had skidded on some ice, lost control and ploughed into a tree, one life ended, and Toby’s life had been destroyed in less than a heartbeat. After the tragedy, his friends and family had been amazing. Supportive, wrapping him in a warm blanket of love. And then the months passed, and people stopped calling. There was only so many times you could ring someone and awkwardly ask them how they are; even his family had taken a step back and, when he moved from the country near them, to the city all parties had been happy at the new found distance.

Then Jamie came along.

‘You think that I should get drunkenly raped by something the size of a baby’s arm? Perhaps you should send your suggestion to the grief counselling service, I’m sure they are always looking for new ideas to help people with their loss.

Cream-a-lot settled onto Toby’s chest, arse towards Toby’s face, stretched out and fell asleep.

‘So we’re agreed then, I should message him and tell him you’re out tonight and interested. I’m going to have to say you’re a total sub though so that he’s happy to take advantage of you.’

It was time to wipe some of that ridiculous smile Toby knew would be on his friend’s face at the all-one-sided teasing.

‘Oh, one of the twins is online, oh no, both of them are – which one is it you fucked again? – I should probably invite them out.’

‘Invite the one with the eagle tattoo, he was the best the fuck.’ The message was promptly followed by a video proving the point.

‘I’m not watching that, and you’re such a fucking glutton, I’m going to invite both of them out and tell them that you’re super excited to see them.’

‘I think if you write “super excited” they’ll know it’s not me messaging, princess.’

‘You always fucking win you smart-arsed cunt,’ Toby wrote and, after gently lifting up Cream-a-lot’s tail, he took a picture of the cat’s pink anus and sent it through.

‘Two things. You should probably tell your therapist that you’re getting angry again and using words banned by the BBC and, also, tell Cream-a-lot I said hi’.

Arsehole,’ Toby replied and then stroked the cat who wasn’t at all happy at having a picture of his anus flung around the internet.

Anyway… what’s it going to be, are you going to man up and at least tell one of your suitors that you’re out tonight. You don’t have to arrange anything, and remember to tell them that you’re out to get drunk and dance, not necessarily to hook up. Or…

The ‘or’ was followed by a close-up shot of the brutal cock.

Fine, if you’ll stop talking to the owner of that savage looking thing I’ll tell the best of the suitors (odd word, freak), that I’m out tonight. Are you happy now?

I’ll be happier in about ten minutes.’

You are disgusting, you had sex with someone less than ten minutes ago, your cock is going to fall off at this rate.

Go have your disco nap and drop me a message when you wake up.


Toby set his alarm for two hours’ time, sent Jamie a sleeping emoji and then welcomed the feeling as he closed his sleep-laden eyelids. 

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