Doom Scroll Desire

Chet was doom scrolling.

He'd been doing it for an hour. Maybe two. The clock on his phone said something embarrassing, but Chet didn't care. The glow of the screen filled his room, reflected off posters of muscle cars and half-naked women selling energy drinks and protein powder. The algorithm knew exactly what was needed to keep him engaged. Trucks. Lifts. V8s. Guys yelling about being alphas. Clips of girls bending over to pick things up for no reason. Thirst traps layered between ads for beard oil and supplements with names like RAGE.

A smirk grew on Chet's face.

Life was good.

A full belly, cold brewskis, parents out of town, and Lisa Wallace sleeping just down the hall in the spare bedroom.

Just thinking that name, Lisa, made something warm and confident settle in his chest. Everyone knew how hot he was; Lisa was the kind of girl that didn't just turn heads, he gave you whiplash. You'd have to be blind to not see it. He was the hottest woman Chet had ever seen. The kind of hot that didn't feel fair. The kind of hot that made guys stare too long and girls roll their eyes.

And he was under the same roof as Chet.

A snort escaped Chet's nose. His stupid brother didn't know what she was missing.

It was only a matter of time until Lisa started really paying attention to Chet. How could he not? Chet was a chick magnet! What girl didn't love camouflage pants? What girl didn't go for a dude with arms like Chet? Who cares that Lisa and Wyatt had been friends since childhood? Since when does friendship give a good foundation for a successful relationship?

No, what Lisa really needed was a man to show him what it means to be a woman. Chet was confident that he would be up for the challenge.

His thumb flicked. Another video loaded. Then another. Then...

He froze.

There he was.

Lisa.

Not just a clip reposted by someone else. Not a candid shot. Not a blurry background moment.

A video, brand new, uploaded about an hour earlier. A channel with just one video, this one. The name... Thirsty Lisa.

Chet sat up straighter, the lazy slouch draining out of him. His thumb hovered, then tapped. The screen filled with him.

God.

Lisa wasn't stiff. Nor was he awkward. And he especially wasn't shy. He moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like the camera wasn't watching him, but rather like Lisa was watching Chet through the lens of the camera.

His hips swayed with a slow, confident rhythm. He smiled, soft and dangerous, like he was in on a secret nobody else was. His fingers traced the strap of his dress, his chin lifting just enough to invite attention without begging for it.

Chet swallowed.

When Lisa turned, when he moved toward the bed, it felt personal. Like the video wasn't meant for the internet at all. Like it had slipped through by mistake, and now Chet was seeing something private. Something meant for someone else.

Someone lucky.

His room felt smaller. Warmer. The noise of the house faded until there was only the sound of his breathing and the faint, imagined beat she seemed to move to. He watched the whole thing. Then he watched it again.

And again.

By the time the video ended for the third time, his thoughts were a mess of confidence and hunger. The certainty settled in him, easy and unquestioned. Lisa would be his. Whatever it took, Wyatt's best friend would learn what it took to be Wyatt's girl.

He just leaned back, phone still glowing in his hand, and let himself imagine what it would be like when the inevitable happened. When she smiled like that at him instead of a camera. When luck finally lined up the way it always seemed to for him. As he smiled, his free hand slipped under the waist of his pants. He couldn't help it. The video was playing on repeat now, and Chet thought it would be rude to not use it for what it was intended.

Without unbuttoning his pants, he wrapped his fingers around his now stiff cock. Yes. That's the ticket. He wasn't sure if he had another one in him, but he was sure as hell going to find out. Eyes fixed on the video, he allowed his hand to lubricate with the precum now flowing from his tip.

The moment stretched. He slid his hand up and down. The video started again. He gripped a little harder. The video started again. Faster now, more intense. The video started again. Faster. Hotter. Yes. Yes. Yes.

The dam broke.

Chet exhaled sharply, a shudder running through him as the world seemed to tilt for half a second—like standing up too fast, like a sudden rush of heat behind the eyes. His heart thudded. His skin prickled. His underwear filled with cum.

And then, just for an instant—just an instant—it felt like something else passed through him. Like the air itself had tightened and snapped loose again. A moment of dizziness, accompanied by a sense of bigness, like he was suddenly the size of the universe despite still fitting in his body. Chet had never felt so powerful, like he could change the course of a river with a glance.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

He laughed under his breath, breathless, a little dazed. He slid his hand out of his pants and looked at the damage.

"Damn," he muttered, wiping his hand on his pant leg. "That was intense."

He chalked the strange feeling up to that. To the video. To being worked up. The phone buzzed once more as the app tried to serve him something new. Chet locked the screen and tossed it aside, already drifting off, smug and satisfied.

But elsewhere in the house, where two bodies were locked in a passionate kiss, something had slipped free. Something luminous. Something powerful.

Something that might have lost a bit of power in transit.