What?!

What?!

This new AI selfie app just colored Chris’ stellar gym outfit pink.

How did it know?

AI was beginning to freak Chris out where he already was.

Maybe AI was gay. Could it be gay?

For a moment, Chris wondered if he could take the thought any further. First, he needed to order the same spandex threads in pink. This sh*t looked good onscreen and might just come in a gay shade of pank.

Hmmmmm…

Chris found himself hesitating. He would need AI to conduct a deep search and was already spooked by its spot on intuition.

‘It’ was the correct pronoun for AI wasn’t it? Given this pink episode just now it was feeling more like it could be her/she/hey girl hay or one of its many derivatives.

This was a quandary.

You know it was times like this Chris was thankful he didn’t have morals. The last thing he needed was a dilemma. Talk about inhumane!

It was as close to hanging out Brad could legally do.

Haha. We said ‘do’.

The Labor Day gayborhood pot luck sat just around the corner and everyone rushed the sign up sheet the moment it was posted. Would Brad, Chris, and their neighbor Luke serve up their infamous three piece spicy Himbolaya?

Yes hunties! YES. They wood for all.

Despite the 12 hour super sun filled photo shoot in wet salty sand that now filled every oraface, according to his Insta, Brad did have ball at the beach that day.

Just The Fashion Tip #594

You can always hem your short shorts by two inches. Just be aware it may very well run into thong territory….

And, that’s OK. In fact it’s fine. Really fine. Mmmmmmm…..

Oliver Forslin

Before the shift manager said anything, Brad sounded off.

First, the shirt was too small, the tie was practically a string, and there were holes in the underwear suggesting to Brad they might have a moth problem. To top it off, the lady at wardrobe didn't issue any pants! This was officially the worst first day with a catering company ever. Who exactly were they catering to anyway? Brad was prettty certain the city health inspector wouldn't be a fan of someone barely dressed running around a ballroom with a gigantic meat platter.

Brad would learn the term 'softcore' in a phone conversation with his new talent agent not five minutes later. It was at the end of that revealing chat where Brad remembered his boyfriend Chris warned him that it was a little weird to sign with anyone new at 3:12am on a Tuesday in the Hollywood Hills. The thought spurred itself sporadically when his agent mentioned his new pair of Gucci sunglasses were misplaced so he needed to cut things short to find go them. It was the only accessory that ever worked for him.

That was easy for Brad to relate to. He couldn't even find pants in the moment. Luckily this wasn't the worst personal crisis in his 22 year history. Brad rarely wore more than a thong as it was. On the other hand, It was very difficult for Brad to believe someone as generous and attentive as his new agent would take advantage of him. After all, it was the fresh representation who patiently waited 45 minutes at the party while Brad tried to figure out which Speedo to wear in the hot tub. If it wasn't for the suggestion to just ditch the swimmers all together, he'd probably still be there. His new agent was a hero.

The guy on the phone said Brad had a good point.

After ever so briefly thanking him for the validation, Brad mentioned it was funny he said that as his new agent said the same thing probably a dozen times while trying on swimmers. What was really surprising to Brad was that everyone in the hot tub agreed when he recounted the thoughtful episode. No one ever listened to him. It was one of the natural pitfalls of being both 22 and so damn attractive. Few took you seriously.

At that point, Brad was promptly asked to drop the pants, hang up the phone, and return to work.

And that everyone is how the Meat Platter softcore stripper series was born.