A Day in the Life of WadeSoftcore 

Decades ago, when Wade was young and confused, joining the Marines saved his life. It gave him routine. It gave him camaraderie. It gave him purpose.

True, between commanding officers barking in the ears and weapons and martial arts trainings and the seemingly endless hours of weighted marches, there were long stretches of waiting around, doing nothing.

For someone like Wade, idle time could be dangerous. He had a talent for self-sabotage, made worse with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell hanging over his and every gay soldier’s head. One wrong glance could mean dishonorable discharge, the end of his military career, and no pension. Deployments, at least, kept him busy. Out of trouble. At times, even relatively safer than when he didn’t have anything to do.

By twenty-four, he’d seen half the world, whether helping to set it on fire or helping to douse it. By twenty-eight, he’d learned to perform well but without showing ambition to get ahead, so he wouldn’t need to be asked (more like forced) to join the elite team and be trapped for life, or worse: get injured or die in combat like many of his friends.

At thirty eight, twenty years after joining the USMC, he retired and decided that even if the world could appear to be beyond help, some things deserved to be saved. And Life Sanctuary Ranch was born.

Marta, who owned the nearby mares-only ranch, mentored him for a year. By the time she stepped back after two years, Wade and his right-hand man, Derek, a young ex-Marine turned livestock veterinarian, had built a thriving home not only for the stallions, but also for chickens, pigs, donkeys, and cows once destined for slaughter.

More than anything, especially after October 7, 2023, the sanctuary ranch saved his life. It gave him routine. It gave him camaraderie. It gave him purpose.

5:00 am: Wake up, brush teeth, get ready for the day.

5:30 am: Check and feed the chickens; feed the horses and donkeys, check water; feed the pigs and cows, check troughs

7:30 am: Breakfast and coffee, check tasks for the day

8:00 am: Open the ranch, security walk with Thor around the perimeter

8:30 am: morning briefing with ranch staff

9:00 am: Visitor prep, or general maintenance if no visitor; tidy up paths, refill sanitizer stations, check fences.

10:00 am: Greet visitors (if open, errands if not)

11:00 am: Stallions and donkeys: grooming, stall check, barn check, pasture check

1 pm: Lunch (and quick check on Thor).

1:30 pm: Animal care rotation: check temps and refill water, scatter veggie scraps for pigs/chickens, top up hay for the equines.

2:30 pm: Daily spot clean of barn and chicken coop.

4:30 pm: Ranch merchandise production (jams, preserves, etc.).

5:30 pm: Evening feeding.

6:30 pm: Lock up the ranch center, head count chickens, close the coop.

7:30 pm: Dinner.

8:00 pm: Thor’s main walk.

9:00 pm: Workout (home gym, weights).

10:30 pm: Shower, prep for next day.

11:00 pm: Bedtime.

Of course, he’s keeping it more flexible than his days in the Marine Corps. There’s always room for unplanned things, like a sick animal or a busted water pipe. And then there are days for maintenance work around the ranch.

Every shabbat, Derek takes over ranch duties while Wade volunteers as security lead at Beth Chai Or, the nearby reform synagogue where Marta is a co-Rabbi.

But the routines cratered. The incident video at Takeshi’s Lick It ice cream store went viral and the ranch received blowback. Schools called to cancel. Families emailed for a refund. Less and less visitors show up at the ranch. School excursions become rarer and rarer.

This means nobody but he and his staff must pick the fruits and turn them into jams and canned goods.

This means less income for the ranch.

This means more time alone with his thoughts. More time than he cares to spend.

And like everyone else, his thoughts are the loudest when he’s in bed, about to go to sleep.

He’s downloaded an app to lock out social media from his phone, forcing him to use it only to call, text, send emails, and a paraphernalia of office tasks like calculator and alarm.

Instead of doom scrolling before bed, he’s taken to reading books about Jewish history and heritage, about how his grandparents and their generation were slaughtered and chased out of their homes in Syria.

But he doesn’t feel like reading tonight. He thinks of Chrissy. He thinks of Chrissy often, even if it’s been half a year. Only his Marine discipline stops him from unblocking Chrissy’s number.

Wade could count on both hands the number of times Chrissy had come to the ranch, which was why those visits always felt like a treat, even if Matt had already claimed him. Chrissy would stay for a few days, get his hands dirty helping with chores, earning respect and trust from the other employees who stopped seeing him as “just the owner’s wife.” Opening the ranch to families for apple picking had been Chrissy’s idea; he’d designed the jam packaging too.

The days moved quickly with routine and repetition. The nights, unfortunately, moved faster. One night, Wade was spooning Chrissy, who’s naked, full of Wade’s cum, their sweat mingled, breaths matched, eyelids heavy; he blinked and it was morning. He snoozed the alarm and held Chrissy tighter, giving him a thousand tiny kisses, wishing he could stretch the minutes before Chrissy had to go home to Matt. He never got used to the emptiness of the cabin after Chrissy had gone.

He faintly remembers Chrissy’s scent, but how Chrissy feels is forever embedded in Wade’s brain. His dick stirs. He hasn’t had sex for a while now. He deactivated his dating apps when his block list reached its quota. It was full of guys whose profile name had a watermelon emoji. It made Wade miss Chrissy even more.

It’s going to be eight years since they first met. Chrissy was supposed to only be a fling. Wade was driving back to LA from San Jose when at a rest stop men’s room, he saw a guy with pink hair, wearing the sluttiest, skankiest pink outfit he’d ever seen. He caught the little bitch looking at him at the urinal.

Wade closes his eyes and starts stroking his cock.

He’s in one of the bathroom stalls. The sissy bitch’s kneeling in front of him, eagerly sucking his huge dick, tasting the mixed residue of piss and sweat. He lifts the bitch up by his armpits, turns him around, and slams him against the gray wall. His dick’s wet from the sissy bitch’s spit. Wade almost rips the slutty sissy short shorts off of him. He roughly stuffs one, two, and then three fingers in the bitch’s cunt, preparing him for his cock.

Wade fucks the bitch from behind. He keeps one hand on the bitch’s mouth, shushing him, hissing degrading words in the bitch’s ear. Sometimes his fingers press down on the bitch’s nose, restricting his breathing. His other hand rubs the bitch all over, kneading his ass, pinching his nipples. He touches the bitch’s hard dick and laughs (softly) at its tiny size. Wade fucks him even harder and pumps his load deep inside the bitch.

Wade opens his eyes. His dick is still hard but his fantasies are muddled now. The memories always start out well, but they never stay pleasant.

He remembered believing he’d found the one when the bitch sucked his dick clean afterward.

Wade learned his name: Christopher. “But everyone calls me Chrissy,” he said with a giggle that got Wade hard again. Chrissy gave Wade his number. That night they texted almost non-stop. Chrissy was going to Oakland from Los Angeles. He told Wade his bus almost left without him.

“Bus?” Wade remembers texting Chrissy back. “They let you board the bus looking like a cheap whore?”

Chrissy’s response? A naked photo of him spreading his cunt.

Wade knew right then and there he wanted to marry Chrissy. Chrissy lived in Downtown LA and didn’t have a car. Wade lived on a ranch a good thirty miles away in Woodland Hills (where he still lives). They texted for months, before the texts trickled out and stopped altogether.

He should be used to it by then. LA guys, they ghost you all the time. But it affected Wade so much that he adopted a Rottweiler puppy, who’s now grown so large and affectionate, and apparently also snores and drools in his sleep. And when he won a membership to Gar’s Gym in a raffle, it’d lead him back to Chrissy.

The gym is in Glendale, a good drive from Wade’s Life Sanctuary Ranch, but Wade wanted the change. It was quieter than the chain gym near the ranch, less crowded, less competition for the weights and machines, fewer people taking mirror selfies. Plus, it’s always nice to support another small business.

That’s also where Wade first saw Matt. Matt’s a big guy, slightly bigger than Wade, but he moved like he was constantly ashamed of his size, as if he were trying to take up less space than he did. He always had on a colorful bag around his waist. Wade nicknamed him Triple B: Bum Bag Bro.

They never spoke, apart from the occasional, “Hi,” and “How are you?” Despite the ridiculous bum bag, Matt was always surrounded by both the men and the ladies, wanting to talk to him, trying to get his attention. But for whatever reason, Matt never seemed to be interested.

One evening, Wade was on the bench. He thought he’d level up and had added weights to his barbell. But after three reps, he could feel his muscles tremble. The weight tilted, then dropped.

Wade’s life flashed before his eyes, but Matt caught the barbell before it crushed Wade’s chest.

After that, it was impossible not to talk.

Wade learned that Matt and the gym owner, Gar, were best friends from school in Pierre, North Dakota. That Matt co-owns a construction company in LA and even helped Gar renovate the space for the gym.

Their friendship blossomed. They partnered at workouts, spotting each other at the gym. They texted, emailed, sent memes, and shared recipes.

But nothing surprised Wade more than who walked into the gym one afternoon to pick Matt up.

“Wade,” Matt said, all smiles, “this is Chrissy. Babe, this is my good buddy Wade.”

Chrissy’s face registered the same shock Wade felt. Wade couldn’t help but let out a short laugh at the absurdity. He’d tried so hard to get over this pink-haired slut, the little sissy bitch from a public bathroom between San Jose and Los Angeles, who’d ghosted him, and now here he was, standing beside his new best friend.

Wade remembers how pretty Chrissy looked. His face all red. Just like when Wade fucked him that night in the rest stop’s men’s room.

“You… you two know each other?” Matt said.

Wade chuckled. Amused that Chrissy didn’t even dare to look at his face. “You gonna tell him or should I?”

“You do that,” Chrissy said, still looking away. “I’ll fill in the rest.”

It took Matt a few moments before he responded to the story. And those moments were torturous. Wade dreaded the idea of losing a meaningful friendship.

“I… I mean, this is… I don’t know what to say.” Matt shook his head.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Chrissy said. “To both of you.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize to me,” Matt said. “How’s about it, Wade?”

Wade realized that Matt was the reason Chrissy started texting him less and less. The texts stopped altogether when Chrissy’s relationship with Matt became more serious.

“Yeah, accepted,” Wade said. “It hurts, but I’ll get over it. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad I lost to you.”

At that time, Wade didn’t know Matt also had other ideas.

One day, when Matt and Wade were in a parking lot after a day riding their motorcycles, Chrissy came by. He obviously wasn’t expecting to see Wade, and Wade was just as startled to see Chrissy dressed like a skank: a mesh bodysuit that didn’t hide his titties, a skirt so short that even his tiny dick was peeking out, and a pair of stilettoes that make his butt look bigger. Wade had to restrain himself from kidnapping Chrissy and taking him away from Matt.

Chrissy protested, but all it took was a bit of coaxing from Matt. The two men shared Chrissy in the parking lot. And everything changed.

Over the next seven years, Wade enjoyed both moments when he had Chrissy all to himself and when he shared Chrissy with Matt. Wade nurtured Matt’s Dom/Master side and turned Chrissy into a pure submissive slut for both of them. He introduced the couple to new kinks and expanded their boundaries. Wade’s bond with Matt grew stronger, and his infatuation for Chrissy turned into love. But even when Chrissy reciprocated, he always made it clear: he would marry Matt, not Wade.

The image of Chrissy in nothing but stilettoes makes his dick throb, but he stops stroking the moment he thinks what Chrissy’s doing right now.

Wade lets out a long, sharp sigh. He’s still hard but he’s lost interest. He rolls his eyes and pulls his underwear back up.

Matt and Chrissy are most likely cuddling right now. Matt will probably take Chrissy to a fancy dinner for Valentine’s Day to renew their vows. Chrissy will probably put on a new, sexy set of lingerie just for Matt, complete with stilettoes, and Matt will probably fuck Chrissy’s brains out, like always, filling Chrissy’s belly with Matt’s fresh cum.

Matt and Chrissy, they look good together. He doesn’t belong in their world.

Wade turns on the table lamp. He grabs his glasses and the book he’s been reading.

Maybe he will go to the men’s support group after all.