Tucker Turns Out

By Derek Williams - derek.williams.comments@hotmail.com
published March 14, 2020
4864 words
Summary

The night from Tucker’s perspective.

Dash Cranston2 recently wrote a kickass parody of my story from the other year, “Hey, you’re straight, right?” He calls his “Hey, why are you asking me questions?” After reading his story, I went back and read my own. It’s been long enough that I feel like writing a sequel isn’t just repetitive, so here’s one for everyone who asked for it: the night from Tucker’s perspective.


There’s no reason why Blake needed to include me in his invite, but I really appreciate that he did. I always feel like I’m just tagging along with the frat, like they want me here to help them ace their term papers and keep the GPA up high enough so we don’t lose our status. I’m just another loser 22 year old nerd, but Blake is a chill guy, and he wanted to include me.

I really love that about him.

Not to sound like I’m hitting on him or anything – I’m not, I’m totally into women, though you might not guess that from the infrequent attempts I make to hit on them – but Blake is the total package. He’s ripped, tall, with this curly brown hair and green eyes that just make you trust him. Blake has that perfect combination of boy and man that make women go weak in the knees and nets him a lot of sack time.

At least, that’s what we thought. Earlier this week, Blake sat the whole frat down and came out to us. He was super funny doing it, saying “Mom, Dad, I’m gay,” like we were his parents or something. And sure, we were a little shocked, but he’s been nothing but a stand-up guy about the ribbing some of the guys gave him.

I didn’t tease him or anything, the resident nerd knows better than to tease the hot jock. Maybe that’s why he asked if I’d come with him to his first gay bar. Apparently Jeff was already gonna come, and I was honoured to be included.


Jeff was packed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looked like he shopped in the kids section. Blake was rocking a tight pair of khakis and a white polo shirt that he’s clearly spent some time choosing. I wish I could look even halfway like those guys, all strength and looks, but I’m just me. I had on a hoodie and some jeans, but I had worn my favourite converse. The purple ones.

I only like to wear my purple high-tops on memorable nights. They’re my ‘good luck’ sneakers, and I wanted Blake to have lots of good luck. I’m not really a ‘getting lucky’ guy myself, but maybe I could help Blake out tonight.

The place was kinda awesome. It had all sorts of coloured lights and mirrors on the wall and disco balls and even a little stage up front. I don’t really know what I expect out of a gay bar, but this bar knew exactly what it was going for.

“This is so cool,” I said after we got in the door. Truth be told, I kinda wish I’d done something with my blond mop of hair. I don’t usually notice it, but there were mirrors everywhere in this place.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Jeff said, scanning the room for single ladies. It’s not really that kind of bar, so I wasn’t even looking, but he kinda had a sixth sense about finding women who wanted to fuck him.

“I can’t believe I made it… you have no idea how many times I’ve looked at pictures on the internet…” Blake said. I squeezed his shoulder, thrilled that he felt at home.

Jeff fucked right off, like the moment we found somewhere to stand. That’s kind of his MO, and might be another reason why Blake asked me along. I think Jeff’s pretty cool, but he’s got the attitude of a 5’5” dudebro, the kind of guy who’s nice and friendly to everyone, but he’s got a serious chip on his shoulder about his height, and sometimes I think he tries to fuck a new girl every night to make everyone like him.

Like I can talk. I’m a history major in a frat. That’s like being a penguin in a pack of polar bears. It sorta fits… but I definitely have to make an effort to fit in too.

(Yes, I know polar bears are at the North Pole and penguins are at the South Pole. I told you I’m a nerd, okay?)


With Jeff gone, Blake and I headed to the bar together and I bought him a shot. I mean, I bought shots for both of us, but it wasn’t a surprise for me. Then he bought me a shot, and then we both grabbed a cocktail. I always order an old fashioned, like Don Draper on Mad Men, while Blake went for something purple.

Then we were back, standing in a corner, watching guys go by. It was kind of weird - I’ve never checked out a guy in my life, but I was trying to understand what Blake was into.

And the best way to understand is to communicate, so I asked the question.

“I mean… I know what I like from porn and stuff,” Blake said nervously, “but I don’t have a clue about anything in real life man.”

“That makes sense,” I replied. “What kind of stuff do you look for in porn? Like what gets you hot?”

There was a long pause while Blake tried to come to a sentence. Finally he said “Man… I know you’re cool with this but…. it’s super weird talking to you about guys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s super weird talking to anyone about guys.”

“I get that,” I said. “I’m awkward talking about girls, and everyone knows I’m straight. You just came out, and it’s not like it’s magic or anything. It’ll take you a little while to get comfortable.”

“Yeah… I guess.” Blake said. We sipped our drinks for a long minute, then Blake finally spoke.

“I like guys who are kinda done up…” he said. “And like… confident and muscle-y and stuff. Like guys who are cool showing off.”

“Awesome,” I said, scanning the room. And then with more confidence than I’ve ever had hitting on a straight girl, I caught a dudes attention on the other side of the room, gave him a ‘come here’ wave, and gave my head a side nod to indicate Blake.

“Bro!” Blake practically screamed.

“Relax,” I said. “You swim, right? It’s just like getting in the water. It’s a shock, but you’ll be fine.”

Man, I wish I was one-tenth this sure about women. But it’s easier when you’re helping someone else.

“Hey,” said the guy, having made his way through the dance floor with an eye on Blake. “I’m Carlos,” he said, reaching out and squeezing Blake’s shoulder. Carlos was a couple inches shorter than me, maybe 5’9” with impressive gym-built muscles and a wide grin, all under a plunging black v-neck. His black hair fell over brown eyes and caramel skin.

“Hey…” Blake said, his tongue completely tied.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m Tucker. This is Blake. This is our first night here, pretty good crowd, huh?”

“Yeah,” Carlos said, giving me a look over. I don’t imagine I was his type, and he could tell. “Let me guess, you’re just out of the closet,” he said pointing at Blake, “and this here is your straight buddy who’s along for moral support.”

“Uh…” Blake said.

“Nailed it,” I laughed. “Sorry, are we like the most stereotypical thing you see here?”

“No, that’ll come later,” Carlos said, laughing and making eye contact with Blake again. “It’s really good to meet you Blake. I hope you and your buddy will stick around all night. I think you two are going to have some fun.”

And with that Carlos blew a kiss at each of us and headed away.

Not bad for a first try.


“Dude, maybe we should just go…” Blake was saying when the lights started flashing. It was pretty early, and I wasn’t ready to let him give up yet. After all, I basically invented ‘dude, maybe we should go’ as a way out, and I’d given into it way too many times in my life.

The crowd started to calm down as they saw the flashing lights, and as a room we seemed to crowd towards the stage. There was a drag queen on stage. It was super cool – I’ve only seen them on TV and stuff.

“Attention BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE,” announced the drag queen. “I have an ANNOUNCEMENT!”

“THIS,” she said, “IS A GAY BAR!”

Jeff was trying to catch Blake’s eye from across the room, like somehow he thought Blake had more information. Did Jeff think Blake had some hidden copy of the gay agenda or something?

“STRAIGHT PEOPLE - GET OUT!” the drag queen said to the crowd.

We all gave a laugh, but more than one dude actually filtered out of the crowd and headed for the door. This was probably something the bar did, just to discourage douchebags to go somewhere else. But fuck it, I was staying. Blake wasn’t gonna use me leaving as an easy excuse.

That’s when the Queen pulled out a magic wand. I didn’t know they did magic too!

“You were warned,” she said softly. And then she waved her arms and a stream of glitter seemed to fly directly out of the wand. I don’t have a clue how she did it, but it headed straight for me and a few other people. Some girls in the back, a couple of guys, and over by the bar Jeff was soaked in it.

“THIS IS A SAFE SPACE,” shouted the Queen, executing a quick pirouette and moving off the stage.

Moments later, the bar was back to normal, full of men and women doing their best to find someone to meet. The lights were flashing, the music was loud, and the straight people were apparently shamed.

I laughed it off. It’s not like it’s a bad thing to be there for your buddy.


It hadn’t been two minutes of living with glitter before I had a gay dude up talking to me.

“Hey,” he said, basically ignoring Blake. “You’re straight, right?”

“Yup,” I grinned. “Sorry to intrude on your space man, I just wanted to be here to support my buddy Blake.” I motioned towards Blake, who was trying to act cool but seemed to be sweating bullets every time we spoke to someone.

“No worries bro,” the guy said. He looked like the kind of guy who would say ‘bro’ too much. Backwards ball cap, baggy jeans, no shirt. We’ve got a couple guys like that in the frat, and it seems that being gay doesn’t really change that much about a person. “Stoked you came. I was just wondering… if you were gay, do you think you’d wear your hair all shaggy like that?”

I thought about it for a second. I mean, I didn’t really feel like engaging with someone who started out criticizing me, but I didn’t want to be a dick either. I hoped Blake was gonna end up friends with a bunch of these guys.

“I dunno man,” I said. “I like it a little longer, but yeah, if I was here to meet a guy, I’d probably go for a little more of a haircut. Maybe like a surfer cut or something, down to my shoulders, pretty relaxed, but still kinda stylish, you know?”

“Yeah bro,” the guy said. “It looks great on you!”

I ran my hand through my hair, pushing back a few errant strands from my blond locks. “Thanks man,” I said, “it’s weird how much maintenance it takes to keep it looking this windblown, you know?”

“I bet,” said the guy. “Shame you’re not gay. I love a bro with awesome hair.” Then he walked off, probably to see if he could find somebody who cared about their hair half as much as I do.

“Tucker… what just happened man?” Blake asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… that guy just asked you about your hair, and now all of a sudden you got amazing hair. I’m not saying it doesn’t look good… but it’s…”

“Relax Blake,” I said. “You probably just never see it in this light.”


“Hey, you’re straight, right?” another guy asked me. It had been a few minutes since my weird moment with Blake, and I’d headed off to the bathroom to take a piss. Now I was washing my hands and making sure my locks were perfectly positioned.

“Yeah,” I said laughing at the guy at the next sink. “Just ‘cause I don’t suck dick doesn’t mean I can’t look good,” I said, using a little water to tame a cowlick that was starting to become a problem.

“For sure man,” said the guy. “I was just wondering, if you were gay, do you think you’d be fussier about your appearance?”

I had to admit, looking in the mirror at my jeans and a hoodie, that I wasn’t exactly the most fastidious dresser. Other than my treasured hair, I basically spent no time on how I looked. The hair had always been more than enough to catch a girls eye.

But gay dudes seemed to have way higher standards. I thought back to Blake on the dance floor, with his carefully picked clothes and accessories and even the little bit of makeup that I’d seen him sneakily applying. I hadn’t said anything of course, I didn’t want to make him feel bad.

“Yeah, I suppose I would,” I joked. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with a jeans and hoodie, but these are a little on the baggy side. And the one gay dude I know, he even wears a little makeup and you can tell he’s really a whole package.”

“It’s great to see a straight guy take such an interest in his appearance,” my sink buddy said, shaking off his hands.

I gave myself a once over in the mirror. Whether it was the big stuff - my fitted dark denim jeans with the gold stitching and my tentree fitted constellation hoodie - or the small details like my shark tooth necklace on a thin leather band, my well moisturized face with a little concealer under the eyes, my lucky purple converse, or my seafoam green nail polish, I was feeling good about my look.

“Thanks buddy,” I said, carefully drying my hands and heading back out there to find Blake.

Unfortunately I found Blake freaking out.


“Dude, look at yourself!” Blake was telling me.

And I did. I really did. The place was covered in mirrors, and you know I sweat the details, so I gave myself two or three once-overs to make sure nothing was out of place.

“You never dress like this Tucker,” Blake said.

“Is it the white belt?” I asked. I knew it was bold, but it was something I was trying, and I think I was rocking the look.

“No, it’s not the white belt. I mean, it is, but it isn’t. Bro, what did they say to you in there?” Blake practically yelled.

“In the bathroom? I dunno man, I took a piss and then some dude asked if I was straight. He liked my look,” I said grinning with whitened teeth. I’m so proud of my smile.

“Fuck man,” Blake said. “You look like you hired a personal stylist or something. This isn’t how you were dressed when we showed up here!”

“Duh,” I said, thinking about my black leather motorcycle jacket that was hanging in the coat check. “I’ve got a jacket and shit dude.”

“No that’s… fuck, I’m gonna go talk to Jeff for a minute. He’s changing too man…” Blake said before stalking off. I glanced over at Jeff who was standing at the bar, chatting with some lumberjack looking dude. He looked normal to me, standing there with his black T stretched over his defined muscles, waving an Appletini around like it was a prop. It’s eccentric, but that’s Jeff’s drink.

No idea how he drinks so many of those and still keeps his abs, but I heard he was an absolute machine in the gym.


“Hey, you’re straight, right?” asked this guy from behind me. I turned to find a big bear of a man, hairy and with a gut that would give Santa a run for his money.

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess you saw me get hit with the glitter, huh?”

“Yeah,” said the bear. “You still have quite a bit on you. It takes a while to come out.”

“Totally,” I said. “But getting cleaned up has never been a problem for me.”

“That’s great,” said the guy, “I was just watching you and wondering… if you were gay, do you think you’d be a gym guy, or would you get more of your exercise from surfing?”

I laughed. “What’s that got to do with being gay?” I asked. But then I thought about it. There were a lot of straight people out there, and you probably had to look pumped to stand out of the crowd. “Honest man, I think I’d do both,” I said. “Get myself some nice stacked muscles, but use ‘em to surf or snowboard or whatever’s in season man.”

“It’s a great look on you,” the bear said smiling.

“Yeah? Thanks bud!” I checked myself out in the mirrors. It was hard to focus under the rainbow lights, but you could see a powerful chest pushing out under my hoodie, stretching the pattern a little more than the designer had anticipated. And my jeans were lucky they had some spandex in ‘em, cause there was no way my hard-won bubble butt would fit otherwise. While I had a little wiggle room in the hoodie, mostly where my pecs created a tent over my abs, my jeans were basically painted on. The price you pay for looking good, huh?


Blake seemed to have given Jeff a rest. Good thing too, because Jeff was finally away from the bar and onto the dance floor. He was dancing with this thin dude wearing a flowery muscle shirt, and he looked like he was having a genuinely good time. Which made sense, Jeff was all about the dancing. He didn’t really care who he was grinding against, just that he was able to grind.

I thought about going out there myself, but I was interrupted by an older guy with a runners build.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re straight, right?”

“Hey,” I said, trying to be heard above the music. “Yeah. You guys are really chill about checking in on that.”

“Totally,” the guy laughed. “You’re such a stud, I thought I should make sure. But I definitely see some glitter on your clothes.”

I glanced down. Sure enough, there was still some glitter on me. My clothes probably needed a couple runs through the washing machine before it would all go away.

“So you got all that muscle,” the runner said. “And I was just wondering, if you were gay, do you think you’d dress to show off that body?”

I didn’t even have to think about that. Looking around the room, it was obvious that most of these guys made a deliberate choice to use less fabric rather than more. “Hell yeah,” I said. “I can’t really pull it off, but if I was gay, I’d probably wear some tight ass shorts and maybe like a tank top that just hugged my curves.”

“That’s such a great look on you,” he said, drinking me in greedily with his eyes.

“Thanks,” I grinned. I was wearing a blue pair of Andrew Christian Phys-Ed shorts that I loved, cause sometimes I just said fuck it and hit the surf in them. I loved the way they cupped my balls in their thin fabric. Who needs underwear when you have a body like this?

But you can’t just walk around town with shorts, so I’d brought along a grey muscle tank that scooped low so you could see my sharktooth necklace, along with most of my pecs and my powerful arms. I loved showing that shit off, and it hung low enough that you could barely see the shorts that made it all legal.


“Hey, you’re straight, right?” another guy asked. He was a shorter twinky guy, clad only in a jockstrap and a chest harness. The runner was barely two feet away before this guy had jumped at the chance to talk to me.

“Yeah man,” I said. “I’m just here for my buddy. He came out a few days ago, and we wanted to bring him to a gay bar!”

“That’s so sweet,” said the twink. “Me and my friends were wondering if you wanted to dance with us?”

I glanced over where he pointed. There were three more twinks, all of them wearing some kind of jockstrap in varying colours. The guy talking to me had an electric blue, while his friends had fire-engine red, lime green, and the classic gym-class white.

“I’m sorry man,” I said, “but I’m not much of a dancer.”

“If you were gay, do you think you’d wanna dance?” he asked.

I looked at the group. I had at least three inches on each of them, and I was packing more muscle than all of them combined. But I did love to dance, and as long as Blake was still off doing whatever he was doing…

“C’mon, let’s go,” I said pulling the twink by the hand. Seconds later, I was surrounded, moving my muscular body in smooth rhythm to the pop music that guided my life. I loved dancing, and I hoped that Blake would come out and dance with me later. Maybe get him out of his shell.

Where was Blake anyhow? I looked around, eventually finding him over by the stage. It seemed like he was laying into the drag queen, pointing at me and Jeff, practically screaming at her.

I love Blake, but he can overreact sometimes. I mean, it’s just a little glitter.

I kept glancing over at the argument. Finally I had to break it off with my twink friends and go see what was up. The boys were all cool about it, each giving my ass one last grab and my cock one last fondle before I moved away. Two of them even gave me their phone numbers. Super sweet, except I’m not gay.


“Hey Blake, is everything okay?” I asked as I approached my friend and the drag queen he was having a melt-down at.

He looked me up and down. I was covered in sweat from dancing, and my shirt was getting a little clingy, but it wasn’t like I looked awful or anything.

“No, everything is not alright,” Blake said. “I’m trying to get Esmerelda here to turn you back the way you were, but she says she can’t.”

The way I was? Like clean and glitter free? “C’mon man, I’ll just take a long shower when I get home. Not like I wasn’t going to. Let’s go dance for a while.”

“See Blake,” Esmerelda said, “he’s not in pain. He’s not in trouble. He’s just dancing.”

“I don’t want some dumbass for a friend, this guy’s one of the smartest dudes I know,” Blake thundered. “And I don’t want some Appletini dance queen,” he said pointing at Jeff who was killing it on the dance floor. “I want my buddies back.”

“You don’t get to make decisions for everyone,” Esmerelda said. “You get to make your own, and trust me honey, I would never have worn that polo shirt. Let’s let your friend make his decisions. Hey honey, you’re straight, right?” she said pointing at me.

“Totally,” I grinned. “Just here to support my buddy Blake. He’s such a cool guy.”

“No,” Blake said, stepping between us. “Don’t you fucking dare change him anymore.”

“He gets to make his choices,” Esmerelda said, moving Blake out of the way with a surprisingly strong arm. I always forget that the clothes are just a set of clothes.

“Would you want to be a dumbass if you were gay?” she asked. “Or would you just want to act like one?”

“That’s not even a fucking fair question!” Blake pushed back. But I was busy thinking about it. It seemed like gay dudes were all so honest about themselves. They had to come out and everything, and that didn’t seem easy. “I wouldn’t just act like something I wasn’t,” I said.

“No!” Blake shouted.

“Whaaa?” I asked. “What’s going on bruh? Let’s dance!” I didn’t really know what was going on, but that was normal for a guy like me. I’m more about my body than my brain and Blake shoulda known that.

“Turn him back!” Blake demanded to the nice lady.

“I can’t turn him back,” said the Queen. “But I can make you okay with this!” She swung her wand up, and I saw a faint rainbow glow envelop Blake’s head.

“Bruh, that was so fuckin’ cool,” I grinned at the lady.

Blake just blinked. He seemed confused what to be mad about.

“Don’t ask how,” the Queen said. “Just ask the questions and finish him up. Because once last call happens in about an hour, he’s gonna be finished whether you’re happy with him or not.”

“Yeah…” Blake said, shaking his head. I could see the rainbow haze around him starting to fade. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” he turned to me. “You’re straight, right?”

“Legit bro,” I said.

“Would you want to make out with me if you were gay?” he asked.

“I mean… yeah,” I said without thinking. I said a lot of things without thinking, but this one was super easy. The room was full of good looking bros, but Blake was MY bro. Total stand up guy. Of course I’d make out with him.

I pushed him up against a mirrored wall and pressed my thick lips into his. I know I never kissed Blake before, but I kissed a lot of guys whenever I got drunk. Blake was special though, so I didn’t rope two or three more guys into our makeup session like I normally would.

He ran his hands through my long locks and over smooth muscle. I kept it waxed - better for surfing, plus it worked better with my look. I could feel my sweat wiping off onto his clean skin and staining his white polo shirt. I didn’t want it to get too messed up, so I pulled off my tank and his polo, then tossed them both onto the floor. We’d probably find them later, and if not… well, we had jackets in the coatcheck.

We made out for what felt like forever. Finally the Queen came up and tapped us on the shoulder, breaking our embrace.

“Two minutes til last call boys,” she said.

I went back to kiss Blake, but he pushed me away.

“Hey Tucker, you’re straight, right?” he asked.

“Yeah bruh. You wanna get shots or something?” I was confused why he’d interrupted our makeout session.

“Would you want to take my cock in your ass? And your mouth? I mean, like if you were gay.”

Duh, of course I loved cock. Ass, mouth, fuck just wave it near me and I start drooling.

“Of course I would bruh,” I said. “But like, I am gay bro. There aren’t any straight guys here. This is a GAY BAR!”

Fuck, Blake could be so oblivious sometimes, but at least he had a fat cock.

We walked home, just him in his khakis and sweat soaked polo, me in my short shorts and motorcycle jacket. Jeff ditched us - that’s so like him - for this twenty-something jock.

I don’t blame him, I wanted to ride dick all night too.

Hot
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