Good Breeding

So, I have this weird superpower. When I get fucked bareback by a guy and he comes inside my ass or in my mouth (provided I swallow), I get his abilities. If he's a loser, I remain a loser. If he is a lawyer, I know law for two days. It takes 40 seconds -yes, like when you put a name in the Death note- to take effect and it lasts for forty-eight hours. I'm a recovering addict trying to mend his life, so if the guy's only ability is doing drugs all day long, I usually relapse. My Higher Power has not yet been able to make me stronger than my power. The abilities will go away, but some tiny bits will remain, especially if I did research or learnt more on the subject. So maybe I don't retain any bits. I just learn stuff.


But weird uh? Any drugs that goes inside an ass will get absorbed by mucous membranes – I was bred by a drug and sexual health counsellor once – but have you noticed how you always go poop the cum on the toilet, even the next day? Like your body is slut-shaming you. Well, not for me. You breed me, I can steal your job within a minute. And then I get fired two days after. So not long enough to get dental for my meth teeth, but enough to get hated by all my coworkers when I forget how to operate the forklift and all the shelves at the Amazon warehouse go dominoes.

The good point is, once, I was able to represent myself in court. I avoided prison. Two days later, this cunt stealthed me and I relapsed and was sentenced to eighteen months in prison for urinating on a cop.

F my effing L.

I don't know is there is a lesson in there somewhere. Maybe, one day, like in Joss Whedon's Dollhouse, I'll be able to conjure the liters of cum in my body and become a superhuman learned man and get a good job and shit I may or may not deserve. Like in that movie and TV show Limitless. But for now, all it does is get me out of trouble and then into more trouble. I tried to formulate a plan to like spin the cum with centrifugal force and pick up the best sperm and then like advance my career little by little. But two days is not enough. I tried to stay with the same guy and get regular cum inside me so I could find and keep a job similar to his. It only seemed to work with Starbucks baristas. And you don't need an education to do a tall cap triple shot half caf mochaccino. You just need to crush your soul into small enough pieces, shove them up tour arse next to the cum and bend over. Maybe I'll meet someone one day that has the same power and I'll fuck him raw and he can be a loser barista addict and fuck up his life for two days. Like a downgrade from Windows 7 to Windows Vista.

Also tried gang bang but too much abilities ended up cancelling each other and it took one loser con man into pyramid schemes to fuck it all up. My mind remains that of an addict and it likes the easy way out.

Anyway. For a story to be story and not just a YouTube fail compilation, a disruptive element had to occur.

This disruptive element was called Miguel. We talked for a while on Grinded. He was a translator. He did photography, liked to write fiction and knew how to cook and bake. He also had an unhealthy love for Sailor Moon and could yap about it for hours. I mentioned trying to get clean and asked him if he was into drugs. He was not. He had tried Narcotics Anonymous but managed to reduce his consumption and stopped going.

"It seems I was in a dark place. Now I seem to be able to snort a line of meth every now and then, crush a Kamagra into a drink and fuck all night and resume the course of my life for as long as I need to maintain a career and buy the latest smartphone when it comes out while being happy to live life on life's terms. I don't minimize the importance of NA at all. I'm just the exception that confirms the rule. For now. Doesn't mean I won't crawl back there tomorrow."

"Marry me."

"I'm sorry: what?"

"Just kidding. And a little jealous. I think you could be a good influence in me. But enough talk about tongues, cram yours up my arse and then pound me into fame."


"Or something close. Like a bad romance."

"Gaga, oh la la."

That guy was weird. Rough and tender at the same time. He would choke me while putting a pillow behind my head so I wouldn't get a concussion from banging it on the wall. He wasn't huge but he knew how to go deep, and he clearly did a lot of sport and had lost a lot of weight. His flab moved as he pounded me, but I didn't hate it. He clearly had lived a life worth living with his share of pain and heartache.

And then he literally flooded my basement.

"Shit, man, it's like a douche."

"You're funny. Ish."

He collapsed onto the bed, depleted.

"I need a minute and then I'll go. Unless you want me to stick around. I never know what guys want. I often want to connect with the guys that just want to carve a notch on their dashboard. And vice versa."

"I wonder how what we said before sex would translate into French if they made this into like a Showtime TV series or something. How can you quote Lady Gaga in French without breaking the translator's invisibility or losing the puns altogether? Or maybe switch to Avril Lavigne like they did in the French dub of 'The Ranch'?"

The knowledge had hit. And it was pouring out like the cum in my ass. And it did not go as I would have thought.

"Wait, all you did was making tongue jokes earlier because I'm a translator and now you quote translation theories they only teach in translation schools. Were you playing the role of a dumbfuck earlier thinking I wouldn't like my intellectual equal?"

Oh, I was not playing. I am the dumbfuck he described. I didn't even graduate high school. I was too high for the school part.

"How come you suddenly act smart after I fuck you. Are you like some kind of copycat superhero that can copy abilities through touching?"

You can trust the imagination of a writer to pierce the veil of whatever this fucked shit is. Oh, and yes, I started writing this shit when I got his writing skills deep inside me. While I was baking madeleines. And taking the best selfies for Grindr. And pictures of my cats.

"More like through DNA… implantation."

Fuck. Did I say that out loud?

"Holy mother of cunting fuck! You mixed my DNA with yours through… my fucking you raw?"

"Jizzus fucking Christ, that's clever?"

"More like creepy as fuck. Does it work all time, even when you swallow?"

Creeped out, yes, but curious as well.

"Yep. Doesn't work if you come on my skin though. Or in my eye. Just burns for three days. No superpowers. Just indomitable pain. Oh, and it takes forty seconds to take effect."

He looked at me. His eyes seemed to be smiling.

"Death note!"

That guy was my spirit animal.

"Is it permanent? Are you like Cell and you get closer to your perfect form each time you absorb new people?"

"I'm not gonna eat you. The spunk is absorbed and for forty-eight hours, I become as skilled as you. If you have skills. If your skills are evil, I might rob a bank or just start doing drugs again."

"Oh man, that's why you keep relapsing even though you get the program and you're such a loser living in a studio that looks like something my flat would cough up."


"No need to be a cunt."

"I'm sorry."

He grabbed me and hugged me for so many Mississippis I started sobbing.

"I'm so sorry this disgusting ability keeps taunting you with a good life."

"Can you stop kicking me while I'm down?"

"Sorry, man. Do you want a blowjob?"

He went into his bag and took out a printed job ad.

"They're recruiting a new senior translator at my company. Seems you can do the job since you're basically me now."

"And in two days, I'll start using Google Translate and they'll fire me."

He slapped me.

"Do not use the G word!"

I backed into that one. Pun intended.

"But seriously, I won't even get an interview by then. What happens in two days when I'm back to being me?"

"I fuck you again, like an hour before so you don't transition back. So you can hold the job. I only do open relationships where we both fuck raw so if I started seeing someone, I'd still be able to fill you up. With knowledge. Get it? Fill you up with knowledge?"

"Ah ah. So, you'll do it just out of the goodness of your heart? Nothing in return?"

"Just a million dollars. And your eternal allegiance to Satan."

"Deal. Can you wait until Friday to cash the check?"

"Sure. But actually, I do want something in exchange."

"Of course. A kidney?"

"I want you to become me for real."

"Now that's fucked up."

He explained what he meant. The deal was pretty clear. The spunk would keep coming, he would even store it in jar and freeze some so I could still get it when he was sick or taking penicillin. In exchange, I had to become a self-taught translator because a year later the spunk would come less regularly and without notice so he would have to fend for himself if he wanted to keep the job.

"And write something. Use my skills, they will help you with drug recovery. I can promise you that much. Deal?"


And that's how we started this ersatz relationship. Of course, I messed up. Many times. But he always bailed me out and pounded some sense into me.

"Pulling out is not just for porn!"


"Make penance and define 'idiosyncrasy' in translation before I fuck you."

"It is when you use a word that was coined amongst your social group and/or relatives that is not a valid word that you choose to introduce as one into your translation because the target language had nothing to offer that is remotely equivalent and you want the translator to remain invisible and not have to make a footnote. The word behind the concept already existed but it was your head teacher in Lille for your master's degree that turned it into a valid translation concept that then appeared in publication. And you had student hard on for him and his terrible tweed suits. You even dreamt he had an affair with you."

"Give me an example."

"It's like when your mother says "La Noël" in French to refer to Christmas in instances where the word doesn't require a determiner. And she uses the wrong determiner. It's a good way to show a character's lack of education when the French doesn't have an oral equivalency, so you use something like this to render it, so the speech doesn't become too polished in the target text. And no offense to your mother."

"Very good! And non-taken. Now come sit on my lap and tell Santa Klaus what you want for Christmas."

"Uh, bad acid flashback. Wrong imagery, man… Well, I'm not the one that has to get hard."

Let the pounding begin.

"How is recovery treating you? Is that trans woman still hitting on you relentlessly despite you being a basic binary bitch and turning her down?"

"You remembered?"

"Whether we like it or not, we're a part of each other's life. Literally and figuratively. I mean, your blood is more spunk than actual blood. You're a medical mystery. You should be dead!"

He stopped for a second but stayed deep inside of me, leaving me to have to repress moaning since Linda was in the stall next to us and she was such a fucking gossip.

"And I do like being a part of your life. You make life fun and unpredictable."

For the first time in a long time, I felt something. Like a tingling warmth. Like a connection. Like a pressure down my chest that turned into fear that this arrangement might end someday, and he would lose interest in me and move on.

"I like being part of your life too."

And then I came from my ass. It's not the most romantic thing but I started shivering and I could barely stand my own skin. We had to be quiet, so he put a hand over my mouth and held me tight.

"I'm gonna be a bitch and expand your anal orgasm by touching your prostate with my cock. I'm gonna keep pounding until I do come and you must keep silent. I order you to let yourself go but without a sound. Is that ok?"

Fuck yes.

"And even if it's not, I'm gonna do it anyway. So Linda has something to tell by the water cooler more interesting than the videos she makes of feeding vegetables to her golden retriever that has more personality than she ever will. Go back to work, Linda! Nobody cares about your stupid YouTube channel. And no one will ever publish the poetry you keep in your desk."

That man was kink and kindness rolled up into one. He once fucked me, soaked me in piss live on CAM4 and sent me back home dripping wet. He cooked for me and watched my favorite anime, cried with me and fell asleep in my arms. He tied me to his desk for a whole afternoon when he was working from home and video called clients while he was getting his cock sucked. He took pictures of me that made me cry. He fucked me in front of the door of his flat in the middle of the night. He depraved me but he also raised me up.

The months passed and then, that dreaded day came.

"You're ready to do this on your own."

"Does that mean you won't…"

"Oh hell no. I will keep fucking you. I just won't come inside of you until you're confident enough the skills you use are yours, even with my DNA mixed in."

He paused.

"I do need something from you though."

It was payback time.

"I want to know your name."

"You do know my name. We've been working together for two years. There is no way you have never heard my name. You have used my name to address me here."

He took my hand in his.

"Yes, but only here. I know your name from you working at the firm, but you never introduce yourself when we first met. I never once used your name when we had sex. We basically have been having anonymous sex for over a year. We do stuff together all the time, but you never introduced yourself. So, introduce yourself to me, please."


"Because I had your sex. And now I want your love."

He paused.

"And a lot more sex. A LOT."

The end