Jake was sitting at the bar in his usual spot like every Saturday night with his buddy Marcus and a few other friends, sipping on his fourth captain and coke. Marcus was chattering away about something or other. He liked this bar. The low lighting made him feel inconspicuos and he could watch the bevy of cute boys who frequented the place without distraction.
Of course, Jake's REAL reason for loving this bar so much was simple. It was the favorite bar of a local celebrity, gay porn star Trent Everett. Trent was a young God--one of the most popular names in porn today. He was the boyish twink type, but his dark hair and surprisingly muscular build suggested a sexy complexity. Jake had memorized Trent's schedule and was always here when he was there, watching from the shadows. It wasn't a creep sort of thing. He came here with the intention of meeting guys but somehow he always ended up being the wallflower with the crush on the captain of the football team.
Jake wasn't a bad guy. At only 26 he had a great job working for a prominent gay magazine as an editorialist (he was actually sort of well known to those who cared), great friends, and a friendly, loveable personality. He was the sort of guy you could bring home to mother. But Jake was almost cripplingly insecure. All his life he'd been plagued by the idea that he was just completely average, from his average height to his average brown hair (already receding) to his average cock. What use was being a top if you didn't have the sort of cock that boys fantasized about? There was nothing remarkable about Jake Brown, and what he wanted more than anything else in the world was to be remarkable.
"Come on buddy, snap out of it," Marcus said. They'd been buds as long as Jake could remember, ever since he'd moved to this town. "Here." Marcus shoved another drink into his hands. "Drink it!"
"Come on, I'm already pretty drunk."
"We're gonna drink until you forget about that dumb porn star."
After that the night became a whirlwind of drinking and joking. Jake didn't remember much of it, until suddenly he found himself being egged on by his other friends while Marcus was in the bathroom.
"Do it! Do it! Do it!"
"I'm too shy!"
"I'll do it for you!" One of the guys reached over and tapped, horror of horrors, Trent Everett on the shoulder. Trent turned around. "Excuse me?" He asked in a bored voice.
"My friend would like to ask you something."
"Um, yes?"
Jake hesitated. He didn't know why he did it--it had to have been the booze, or a magic in the air that night. He stammered, "Uh-uh, I'm Jake. I've seen you around and, uh, I think you're really cute. I dunno, could we trade numbers or something?"
Trent studied him for a moment and then cracked a kind, condescending smile. "I'm sorry buddy, I just don't think you're my type." Then he walked away. A few guys standing around either laughed or gossipped that such an average guy would hit on THE Trent Everett. Trent's blonde friend who seemed to accompany him everywhere just looked at Jake and shrugged, smiling. "He's just drunk, don't mind him. I'm sorry man, he can be a jerk sometimes. Don't sweat it." He then ran after Trent.
After that Jake's memory became a black haze. His worst fear, realized. Marcus did his best to try to cheer him up but Jake was inconsolable and incredibly embarrassed. He excused himself and headed home on the public transportation. At home he found he couldn't sleep, tormenting by the events of the night. He turned on the television and watched whatever was on, finally falling asleep...
...Jake suddenly jerked awake. There was an infomercial on television.
"Sick of your boring, average life? Wish there was just one thing you could change about it? Well you should try A New Day Services, at 1-800-639-3297. You won't be sorry."
Maybe it was the booze again, or maybe he thought he was dreaming, but Jake lifted up the receiver and dialed the number. A female voice came over the phone.
"Hello Mr. Brown, we've been expecting your call." Jake hardly felt even phased by the fact that this woman knew his name. "What seems to be the trouble?"
Jake hesitated, and cleared his throat. "Well, all my life I've felt... average. Painfully so. I just wish I had at least one thing in my life that was special. Something to talk about."
"You have a great life, Mr. Brown. Great friends, great job. Our services don't come free. You would have to trade one aspect for another."
"I don't care!" Jake spit. "I just want to stand out from the crowd somehow!"
"I take it you're agreeing to our terms of service then Mr. Brown?"
"Anything. Make me special."
"It's a deal then, Mr. Brown."
"Who do I write the check to?"
"Don't worry, we'll take care of the payment. Our services should be delivered sometime overnight. Feel free to call us again if you are unsatisfied!"
With that, she hung up. Jake felt like the conversation must have never happened, hung up the phone, and stumbled to bed. He couldn't even muster up the strength to masturbate before he fell asleep, the night's images tormenting him.