“You’re really serious about this, huh?” Young Josh smirked, leaning back against the wall of the green room. His arms were crossed, and his eyes glinted with amusement as he looked down at the thirty-something man on his knees in front of him, nervously fidgeting with the pulled up sleeve of his expensive-looking monogrammed shirt.
The man’s voice trembled as he spoke, but there was a desperate earnestness in his words. “Yes, I’m dead serious. I-I’ll give you two thousand dollars to humiliate me. Please. In the worst ways you can think of. Make me your joke, your punching bag—whatever you want. Just… do it on stage. I need it.”
His plea hung in the air, raw and unapologetic, as he remained on his knees, his face flushed with shame and longing.
Josh let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, man. You’ve got some… well, actually, no, doesn’t sound like you’ve got balls at all.” He chuckled, his voice dripping with mockery as he looked down at him. “Why? Why would you even want that?”
His tone was laced with amusement. He clearly relished the moment, dragging it out as he waited for the man’s response. The air between them crackled with tension.
The man’s face flushed a deep red, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. “Because I’m an inferior faggot. And you… you’re a straight god. I worship guys like you. I just want to be humiliated by you. Please.”
Josh let out a loud, derisive laugh, the kind that echoed through the green room and made the man’s face burn even hotter. He leaned down slightly, his smirk turning into a cruel grin as he looked at the man kneeling before him. “So what’s your name, faggot?” he asked.
“I’m… Greg…” the older man replied.
Josh chuckled before speaking again “Two grand, you said? You’re really that much of a hopeless loser, huh?” he sneered, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But don’t come crying to me when the crowd tears you apart.” Josh straightened up, still chuckling to himself as he scratched his balls.
Greg’s face lit up with a mix of excitement and disbelief. The thrill of Josh’s agreement was making his heart race. “For real?” he squeaked, his voice trembling with eagerness as he looked up at the young comedian. “Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I’m so grateful!”
Josh let out a low chuckle, clearly amused as he pulled out his beat up phone. “Fuck yeah, you bet!” he said. He opened the Venmo app and held it out to Greg, his smirk widening. “Send me the cash first, though. Let’s make this official.”
“Of course!” Greg whispered, his heart now pounding in his chest as he remained on his knees, obedient and humiliated. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and quickly sent the payment to Josh. “There, I… uhm… I took the liberty of sending you $2,500,” he added, his voice barely audible but laced with urgency. “The extra $500 is a… a thank you for doing this for me.”
Josh glanced at his phone, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he confirmed the payment. “Damn, you really are one desperate faggot,” he sneered, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Tipping me on top of paying me for roasting your ass? Shit, man, you just keep getting weirder.”
Greg’s face burned even hotter, his eyes downcast as he muttered, “I just… I want to show my appreciation.”
Josh let out a sharp laugh. “Appreciation? Nah, man, this is pathetic. But hey, your money’s good. Now get ready, fag, ‘cause I’m about to make you the star of the show—just not in the way normal people like. This is gonna be lit.”
_______________________________________
Earlier that evening, Greg Nox had been lingering backstage, as he often did. He wasn’t a comedian or even a performer. He was just… there. A wealthy man in his late thirties, with no need for a job, dressed in a crisp suit that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, volunteering at a small Comedy Central venue in Miami. Well, volunteering is not really appropriate in this case. Not only was he not getting paid, but he had insisted on paying the venue a hefty sum to let him be there. To let him clean up, run errands, and hover awkwardly in the shadows, watching the young, confident comedians who took the stage night after night. It was a great way to spend time around straight gods, the object of his worship.
It was Josh Zayne who caught his attention that particular night. Eighteen years old, cocky as hell, and already oozing raw talent. Greg had seen him perform a couple of times before, and the submissive man simply couldn’t get him out of his head. Josh was lean, handsome, with messy dark hair and a wicked grin that could charm anyone. His jokes were sharp, heavily laced with homophobia, and his delivery was flawless, hitting harder because of it. Every punchline felt like a jab, every smirk a reminder of his dominance. He was everything Greg wasn’t, everything Greg venerated.
This time, though, the man wasn’t just going to settle for a few deferential and servile phrases to get a demeaning reaction out of this boy, like he had done a million times before with the straight gods who had crossed his path. No, this was something he had been thinking about for a long, long time. Dreaming was actually a better word for it. Josh was simply perfect to turn his fantasy into reality and the thought of doing it for real was completely electrifying.
So when Josh walked backstage half an hour before his set began that night, Greg approached him hesitantly. “Hey, uh… I saw you a couple of weeks ago. You’re phenomenal. Do you need anything? Water? A towel?”
Josh glanced at him, clearly not recognizing him. “Nah, I’m good, man. Thanks.”
But Greg didn’t walk away. He stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, until Josh finally looked at him again. “Uh… you okay?”
“I… I was wondering if you could do something for me,” Greg blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper.
Josh raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“When you go on stage next… could you humiliate me? In front of everyone? I’ll pay you. Two thousand.”
Josh’s eyes narrowed with amusement and puzzlement. “Man, what the fuck you talking about?” he sneered.
Greg knelt before the young man and said, “I’ll send it to you right now. Please!”
—
Josh sauntered up to the mic, the spotlight catching his messy dark hair as he flashed a cocky grin at the rowdy crowd. “Yo, what’s good, my guys?” he started, his voice dripping with that laid-back, young swagger. “Name’s Josh, I’m 18, and honestly? My biggest flex is probably how much I love absolutely wrecking some chick’s throat with this fire-ass schlong I’m packin’. Like, it’s my main personality trait. Anyone else relate or nah?”
The audience erupted into cheers and laughter. It was the perfect opening considering the crowd. It was Spring Break and the only people there were a bunch of college boys at different stages of inebriation, hollering, guffawing and egging him on. Josh smirked, clearly basking in the chaos he was about to unleash. “Oh, and I guess I’m a comedian too,” he added with a smirk, “From the one and only… uh, let’s keep it real, my hometown is lowkey a dump. It’s basically a gas station with a Walmart attached—you do NOT wanna visit that place, trust me. But hey, I glowed up and made it out, so here I am, ready to make you laugh—or piss you off. Either way, I win.”
The crowd chuckled and whistled, fully hyped by Josh’s unapologetic bravado, with a couple of drunk frat bros shouting, “That’s facts!” Josh grinned his cocky demeanor perfectly in sync with the rowdy vibe in the room. He waited for the noise to die down, his smirk growing wider as he leaned into the mic.
“Alright, alright,” Josh said, strutting across the stage like he owned it. “So, uh… yo, this is legit wild, here’s what just happened backstage.” He paused, letting the anticipation build as he scanned the crowd with a sly grin. “Some dude—like, full-on CEO vibes, suit, looks like he’s flexing a yacht or some bougie shit—comes up to me and is like, ‘Yo, I’ll Venmo you two racks if you roast me on stage.’ Two. Thousand. Dollars. Like, what the actual fuck? Can y’all even?”
The audience cracked up as the college boys cackled in disbelief. Josh smirked, soaking up the energy like it was his personal fuel. “Bro, I know. Dude’s got more money than sense—or dignity.” Everyone roared with laughter, and Josh felt a rush of adrenaline. This was the perfect crowd to pull this off. “Turns out,” he continued, pacing the stage with exaggerated nonchalance, “this guy’s got… what’s the word? A kink? Yeah, he’s got a kink for being humiliated. He literally paid me to call him an inferior faggot in front of all you fine folks.”
The crowd howled with laughter again, cheering Josh on. He glanced offstage and saw Greg standing there, his face bright red but his eyes wide with excitement.
“Get him up here!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“Yeah, bring him out!” another voice joined in.
Josh grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestured dramatically toward Greg. “Alright, ladies and—well, let’s keep it a buck, it’s just the boys in here tonight, right?” Josh said. He scanned the hundred or so college dudes, who were already hyped and hollering back at him. “No cap, this is the straightest vibe I’ve ever seen, fuck yeah! Like, where’s the diversity? Oh wait, that’s coming in hot in a second, trust me.” He chuckled, then leaned into the mic, his voice full of mock formality. “But I digress. Allow me to introduce you all to a very special guest. Let’s give it up for the biggest simp in Miami, guys! Greg the Inferior Faggot!”
The room exploded into cheers, laughter, and whoops of excitement, clearly loving Josh’s brazen delivery. Greg hesitated for a moment offstage, his face beet red but his heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. Josh waved him forward impatiently. “Come on, Greg, don’t keep your adoring fans waiting! Get your fag ass out here and take your place center stage!”
The crowd went wild as soon as he walked onstage, shouting and laughing as they took in the sight of this well-dressed thirty-something man standing awkwardly under the spotlight.
“Alright,” Josh said, turning to Greg. “So, uh… tell us again why you’re here?”
Greg cleared his throat, his voice shaky but loud enough for the mic to pick up. “Because… because I’m an inferior faggot. And I worship straight gods like you.”
The college dudes lost it and Josh couldn’t help but laugh too. “Yo, y’all hear that?” he said with sarcastic disbelief as he gestured dramatically toward Greg. “This dude—this fancy-ass suit-wearing fag—just said he worships me! Like, me! An 18-year-old kid who’d probably be out there skullfucking his daughter right now if this loser even had one. Bro, what kind of pathetic loser energy is that?!”
The audience roared even louder, some of them doubling over in hysterics while others shouted insults at Greg. Josh shook his head, his grin widening as he milked the moment for all it was worth. “Yo, bros, I’m still tripping off this! Like, this dude—this actual faggot—paid me two grand to roast his ass on stage! Two stacks! Bro, for something I normally do to guys like him for free! Am I right?” He paused, letting the crowd react, and they erupted into cheers and laughter. “Pathetic,” the boy repeated.
“I mean, for real, Greg? You could’ve just rolled up to me and been like, ‘Yo Josh, pretty please, call me a faggot,’ and I would’ve done it on the spot—shit, I would’ve slapped you around a little while I was at it. But nah, bro, you had to fucking pay me for it.” The crowd was losing it, howling with laughter as Josh strutted across the stage, his voice filled to the brim with that brash, I-can’t-believe-this-shit energy. “You’re legit setting the bar for fags everywhere so fucking low, it’s basically underground at this point.” He shook his head, smirking as he turned back to Greg, his tone mockingly pitiful.
Greg stood there, his face burning with humiliation but his heart racing with euphoria. The laughter, the jeers, the way Josh looked at him like he was nothing—it was exactly what he’d paid for—and this butch, rowdy, clearly fag-hating crowd couldn’t get enough of it. Everything was absolutely perfect.
“Alright,” Josh said, turning back to the crowd. “let’s get this fag show on the road, what do you guys say?”
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