Bred by the Findom Influencer

Thick steam swirls in the air.

I inhale, pulling the warm tendrils into my lungs.

Oh yeah…this is good.

I’ve never been a morning person, but there’s something soothing about rolling out of bed and getting in the shower. The pitter-patter of falling water…it could send me back to sleep. I love the warm pressure on my skin. I love the gentle scent of my peppermint shampoo.

Moments like these let me reflect. Now that I’m in college, I have new responsibilities. Juggling schoolwork and a social life…it’s rough. I have a goal though—graduate and become a marine biologist. I’ve always been fascinated by the animal kingdom. It’s a raw, primal universe…a world of danger and adventure. The weak hide and flee. The strong hunt their prey, waiting for the perfect moment to move in…

The perfect moment to claim and consume them…

*knock* *knock*

I tense up.

*knock* *knock*

Oh no. Not again.

“Mark! Are you in there?!” A deep, gruff voice rumbles behind the bathroom door.

“Y-yes, Omar. I’m almost done!”

I grip the shampoo bottle tight. Omar is my roommate, and he terrifies me. I’ve lived here for nearly a month now, and we’re constantly butting heads. The biggest flashpoint is the shower. Our schedules are too similar, and battles for the bathroom have become frequent.

“How much longer?!”

“M-maybe ten minutes?”

“No. Get the fuck out!”

A crack echoes as he throws the door open, sending it smacking into the wall. Heavy footsteps approach, casting a tall, dark shadow over the shower curtain. The silhouette sports rounded shoulders with visible contours tracing down the biceps. His forearms are thick. His hands are huge. His chest is wide and powerful like a hero from Greek mythology.

The sight causes me to tremble.

I’m skinny and short, but that’s the least of our differences. He’s an exchange student—born into a wealthy Middle Eastern family. I’m a local, funding my education with student debt. We’ve lived very different lives.

A shadowy hand reaches out, gripping the curtain.

He rips it away.

“Get out!” He stares down at my nude, trembling body. There’s hate in his eyes.

“P-please! Just a few more minutes!” I reach low, covering my dick.

“No. Time’s up!” He grips my arm, pulling me onto the bathroom floor.

Powerlessness pulses through my veins. Dripping wet, I scurry like a mouse fleeing an elephant. This isn’t the first time he’s done this. It always ends the same. I get a burst of adrenaline. My limbs shake. And my dick…it gets hard.

I run to my room, slamming the door shut. My dick expands while I grab a towel from the closet and dry off.

Thank god he’s never seen my dick get hard. If he knew I was gay, it’d all be over. He’d torment me. I know it.

It’s a cruel twist of fate to be born like this—attracted to men who find you repulsive. Omar treats me like shit, but I can’t stop looking at his body. Tall…strong…composed…how could I not be drawn to that? Whenever he brings girls over, I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy in my heart. His hands were so rough in the shower. What if his touch lingered a bit longer? What if he moved lower…?

No…I don’t have time for this.

I stare at my raging erection. It points at the ceiling, the tip’s slit wide and wet. It washes over me…the need to masturbate.

Which reminds me of my other secret.

I have a bad habit. I’m trying to quit.

Over the summer, I discovered something dangerous. Something dirty and fucked up.

It started during a marathon porn session. I was scrolling my phone, beating my dick to hot social media models. Guys with tan skin and ripped biceps. Guys who are straight but have no problem courting gay attention.

And that’s when I saw him.

A young man with buzzed hair, a sharp jawline, and a look of boredom in his eyes. I tapped onto his page and entered a dark world. I wish I never discovered it.

The world of “findom”.

It’s short for “financial domination”. I don’t even know why I tried it. I just sat there, staring at a shirtless photo of that powerful young stallion. He had an otherworldly confidence—I felt drawn. He’s the type of guy who can protect you. He’s the type of guy who can hurt you. My eyes combed down his striated pecs, focusing on the tight brown nipples. Something stirred in my stomach.

A craving for approval.

Sup, f@gs. Who’s paying for my dinner? These biceps need protein. Payment links in bio.

It seemed ridiculous, but down in the comments, gay dudes were sending him money. Hell, taking cash seemed like his full-time job.

A “cashmaster”. That’s what he called himself. It sounded silly, but I was curious.

He wanted guys to show respect—to physically acknowledge his strength.

My hands were shaking. My heart was racing. It seemed stupid to send a guy money for no reason, but deep down, I felt like he deserved it. He was just so different from your average college boy. A natural leader…

So I sent him $10.

It was a tiny amount—not a big deal.

But it opened the floodgates.

It’s like smoking your first cigarette. You feel the rush. Your pupils dilate. He sent me a message.

Hey, bud. Great job.

The words were simple, but they had a deep effect. I’ve spent most my life afraid of straight bros like him. There’s always been a sense that I don’t belong in this world—like I’m too different. In that moment though, everything felt right. My fear melted away while we talked. I opened up.

And that’s when he started taking.

He started “draining” me.

I work hard in the gym. People should respect that, don’t you think?

Yeah…you’re so strong. You should be admired.

You like this body? Prove it. I could use new gym gear. Tight muscle shirts. Let’s show the physique off.

He said I could be useful. He had a date with a girl coming up. He said I could help him impress her. I could help him stand out and get the recognition he deserved. I started sending more. Each time money left my bank account, my cock grew harder. My heart was on fire. I was speaking openly to a straight college jock for the first time. It was euphoria.

We messaged for over an hour. When he left though, it all came crashing down.

Nearly $500 spent.

I damaged myself to elevate another man. It was an act with real-world consequences for us both.