BYBF: Build Your Boyfriend

by eyematerror

 Desperate for love, Tim uses a magical new service to create his ideal boyfriend. In the process, however, he finds himself saddled with responsibility…

Added: May 2021 7,104 words 3,329 views 4.7 stars (7 votes)


Tim was 25 years old and out of prospects. In his small town of Atwood, there were very few places to meet new people—let alone single people—who he hadn’t been acquainted with at some point. Either that or he spent half of his life exposed to them through the abysmal school system. The big city was an hour away, and his clunker of a car could only go so many miles before something else under the hood fell apart or exploded. His arbitrary office job was an accessory to his life, nothing more, and it wasn’t paying enough for him to get a new ride.

But those were all excuses. The real deal-breaker was his seemingly demanding preferences in confident and beautiful men. He especially loved the exotic types, ones with chaotic tendencies, and Atwood was too simple and disingenuous for that kind to stick around.

So the takeaway for Tim was he needed to move. That was proving to be rather difficult because of his lease deal, and it would be at least another year or two before he’d be able to break out of it. Emotionally, he couldn’t wait that long.

But that was how it was—until it wasn’t. Tim was in one of his oh-so-common routines of browsing the internet and looking for any excuse to avoid thinking about his problems when one of those inglorious ads pushed aside the content on a go-to website for finding singles. It declared:

“Build Your Boyfriend—A Soulmate For Life. It’s But A Click Away!”

Sheesh. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this one, and Tim’s pride always took over when he saw it. He’d never stoop so low! Of course, people had mentioned it to him before: it worked, but only to a point. Basically, you’d describe the kind of guy you wanna have—you could be as general or specific as you needed to be—and out they’d ship the ‘product’. Whoever ‘they’ is. His cousin had a friend who used BYBF and claimed it saved their life. Was that an infallible approval, or an overreaction? Tim had his thoughts.

The downside to it was the extremely high cost, and so it was easy to rationalize that it was not worth the trouble. It was best to pretend it had never been seen, move on to picture-swiping apps and profile browsing, and be happy that you weren’t one of those low-lives that had to resort to creating what you wanted out of thin air.

But today? Tim was feeling especially vulnerable. In fact, he was exhausted. He had already spent a couple hours tonight alone on his bed reading through countless profiles and finding dumb nitpicky reasons to hate them all. He didn’t really want to search these apps for ‘the one’ anymore. Why couldn’t that special someone find him instead? Why was he always the one looking? Why did he have to be stuck in this stupid town?!

Tim looked at the ad again. ‘Is there really any harm in checking it out? It’s not like you get immediately charged for simply clicking it,’ he thought. The proof is in the pudding, as they say, and now he had a craving for more than just pudding.

Just this once.

He shrugged off his vanity and clicked the ad. In a new tab he saw the site ‘’—and the front page was a photo of two admittedly exquisite male models sporting chiseled six-pack abs, glistening smiles, and beautiful eyes. They held a “Welcome to BYBF” banner provocatively over their nether regions, and underneath all that read the caption:

“Click to Get Started!”

There were no menus, and nothing else to click, so he clicked the photo. A grey page with black text loaded, and he read the text aloud:

“BYBF is a journey. Share with us your deepest, most intense desires. Describe to us your ideal man, and see them come to life in a matter of days. Satisfaction is always guaranteed, or we’ll happily refund your purchase.”

Satisfaction guaranteed, or a refund? That was an eyebrow raiser. The snarkiness of that statement… how many people could take advantage of this service based on that loophole alone!

He read on:

“Once we receive your submission, the information is loaded into our database and the process begins. Our highly-qualified team of neuropsychological scientists, geneticists, synthetic biologists, analysts and more create your male companion using our secret patented process. This process can take anywhere from sixteen to twenty days. After we assure quality performance through a series of automated and checklist tests, we ship them to your home.

When you receive your package, all you do is activate the online registration code and invert the neuron-embedded primer fluid in your package to release the materialized smoke and render them to full-size. It’s that easy!”

Tim cackled at that. Nothing was ever as easy as it sounds. And what the hell is a neuron-embedded… what? Underneath the descriptions were a bunch of testimonials from people with names that sounded a bit too fake, with fluffy language that could make a cat out-drool a dog. Tim read a few of them, but they were all the same and wholly composed of flavorless text. Like, sure, maybe Sergio Smith and Dimitri Kensington actually had a wonderful time designing boyfriends, but I’m also the King of England. And I’m pretty sure I got a spam email from them just the other week.

Just then, one of those little pop-up comment bubbles appeared in the lower right corner of his screen. It was a chat bot. “Have questions? Click to chat with an analyst.”

Ah, yes. Now he’d be able to get the low-down on this ordeal. He’d verify this scam and blow off this whole thing. Without hesitation he clicked the bubble and a side-panel appeared in his browser. Within a few seconds, he saw a text message that read “Martin V. is typing…” In another blink of an eye, he saw the overtly friendly scripted text from this totally-real ‘Martin’ person that the chat bot probably used for everyone.

“Hi, welcome to BYBF Chat. My name is Martin V. and I am here to inform or assist you. Is there something I can help you with?”

The little icon next to his name showed a rather plain-looking dude with rimmed glasses, unkempt chestnut hair, and a bright smile. Nevertheless he clicked into the panel and followed along, expecting to reach the point where they requested his personal information. At that point he was ready to throw down all the vulgarities his daddy taught him and call it an evening.

“What… in the… actual… hell… is… this…”

Tim typed it out, and hit the Enter key. It was a bit interesting that this wasn’t a fully guided system, and that it actually accepted custom questions. At the same time, the more cryptic he could make his comments, he could suss out robo-Martin and be on his way.

After a few moments, Martin started typing again, this time taking a few seconds more.

“I get what you mean—I thought that too at first.

Then I got my boyfriend”

Tim had just enough time to read through what he wrote before a photo appeared underneath it. When it had fully loaded, it appeared to be Martin with a man whose near-perfect physique and sandy blonde hair was… rather impeccable. He was almost a foot taller, with a defined jawline and a well-trimmed beard that accentuated the shape of his face. He was very handsome, beautiful even. But they did look a bit mismatched together. Like, this man looked too good to be with Martin; they had to be just friends. Whoever designed this website paid off a male model to use his likeness or something.

“This is me w Travis, my bf

Weve been together six years now”

Cute, Tim thought. ‘Travis’ is a real catch. But this response could have been easily set up with the keywords he used. He pressed on with a more personal insult:

“He… looks… too… good… for… your… ugly… ass…”

Tim chuckled a little. The anonymity of the internet certainly brought out the worst in people, himself included. That bit of self-deprecating sensibility was coming through in his interaction. Maybe he was being too harsh? He’d feel good about it now, and exercise (brief) regret later.

Yeah, later… Actually, it was getting pretty late. He needed to eat dinner, but he was only thirsty. Getting up from his desk, Tim went to grab a beer from the fridge. By the time he was back and sitting down, he saw a response:

“yeah X( and youd be right i guess. Totally understand. But he is programmed to love guys like me”

It was all a bit odd. The random text-based emoji and lackadaisical grammar… he was suddenly skeptical about Martin being a bot. But how could he be speaking to a real person? This niche website was too underground.

“And while u may be skeptical Travis is a 100 percent bionic creation of BYBF. He got some free will of cours but he has to luv me”

He stared at the picture again. Travis had his arm around his back and both of them were holding a peace sign to the camera. He didn’t look fake, that was for certain. But then again, this could be any picture on the internet used with the express purpose to market this scam.

“Send… me a… picture… of him… and you… kissing….”

Just three seconds later, Martin responded with “Sure,” which got Tim’s blood boiling. The next thing Tim saw nearly caused his jaw to drop open.

There Martin was, with this Travis guy, standing in front of a computer screen… doing the same peace sign with one hand, and his arm wrapped around Travis’ neck as he leaned into the image just enough to land a smooch on his lips.

On the screen behind them was text from his personal conversation with Martin.

No, it was too fast. There’s no way this was fake.

Tim was flustered. He had just body-shamed a real person and found himself morally confused. What in actuality was going on here? Maybe this was why he was single.

He mustered up the will to type a response.

“im sorry… I…. thought… you were… a bot. But… i… have… no… reason… to believe… this scam”

A few moments went by.

“I guarantee u dude. No scam. How about this. Fill out the information we need, we will waive the fees for first 14 days after delivery”

Tim blinked. Again with unbelievably convenient deals? If this website was actually real, and this whole situation didn’t result in spyware on his computer or endless spam mail, he didn’t understand how this was financially lucrative for them.

“Sound good?”

Regardless, they were tempting him along nicely. And, yeah: Tim was especially vulnerable to this temptation tonight.

“Sounds too good to be true,” Tim wrote back. In the picture still on screen, Tim swore that Martin’s alleged boyfriend was now winking at him.

“Well… u did insult me. So I can only offer this once”

Tim ran his fingers through his hair. He was in too deep now, wasn’t he? And, again, he felt extremely desperate. If he had to live alone any longer, he would never be able to live a full and happy life.

So he decided to go for it.

“i wont look a gift horse in the mouth.”

The form itself wasn’t long. But considering how expensive the service was going to be, it seemed to take a lot of liberties in simplifying the process.

“Describe in 100 to 1000 words your ideal mate’s physical features, vitals, and temperament. Be as general or specific as you’d like.”

“Well…” Tim thought. Writing down his personal fantasies was an interesting challenge with a lot of pressure. But it didn’t take him long to get into it.

“Dark brown hair… blue eyes… a strong nose… well-kept teeth…”

He wrote down his desires in a bulleted list, asking for a tallish male his age with lightly bronzed skin and a supportive and endearing temperament… someone who was there for him, almost subservient when at his mentally lowest, but with an inviting personality. Oh! and intelligent enough to follow Tim’s meandering trains of thought. But he could throw his own weight around, too. Tim found men with dull personalities too complicated to unravel.

When it got to listing physical attributes, he visualized someone in his head and worked his way down the body. “A… umm… well, I don’t really care if he’s a little pudgy or not around the waist… like, I don’t want them to be one hundred percent perfect. But… only if he’s got strong arm muscles…”

As time went on, he found himself getting worked up thinking about the man of his dreams. Who wouldn’t? This little experiment was ticking all the right boxes and tickling all the right fancies.

“A little hairy and rugged, someone who has a simple fashion sense but isn’t afraid to show some skin… yeah… and… ha, totally hung,” Tim giggled. “Strong legs… a butt to die for…”

He got lost in the subtext of it all. Before he knew it, the text window started automatically deleting new words; he had astonishingly reached the 1000-word limit. As if on cue, another text from Martin popped up.

“Having fun?”

Tim wrote back:

“I guess I filled up the text box.”

“Great. Now are you ready for the hardest step?”

Tim did have a lot of fun describing his ideal man. And as Martin said, they’d waive the payments for two weeks, which would be about a month from now anyway. That would be plenty of time to apply any dissatisfaction and move on with his life. He had nothing to lose.

Sure. Why the heck not.

He entered his payment information into the form on the next page and signed a couple agreements. Martin confirmed he had his ‘order’ in the system before waving goodbye virtually and signing out of chat. In no less than a half hour, he had built his boyfriend. And Tim didn’t know how to feel about it, but in due time he’d get an answer.

Three weeks had passed. Tim had finished his work week and had almost forgotten about the exchange with Martin and BYBF until he looked at a calendar and remembered what day it was. Didn’t they say it would take no more than twenty days? He checked his confirmation email and—yes indeed, that wasn’t a mistake on his part.

But later that day, as if it were clockwork, he heard his doorbell rang. Tim rushed on a pair of sweatpants and got to the door just as the deliverywoman was about to leave. The woman gave him some questionable stares as he signed the papers (did she know what was in the box?) but Tim really didn’t care; he got the package! He ushered the moderately sized cardboard box inside and closed the door. Feeling a bit insecure anyway, he closed his front window curtains.

The box was about as tall as his hips, and as wide as his body’s width. It was quite a heavy thing, and nearly completely unlabeled. But, given everything that was supposedly inside, it would make sense that it had a bit of bulk to it.

“So this is the actual deal, eh?” Tim said to himself.

This box here. Inside it was… a boyfriend.

As strange as it sounded to say, it was even weirder to believe. The notion didn’t quite hit him till the thing was sitting there in the center of his living room floor. An entire mechanism awaited within the bounds of that cardboard-sealed cube. The tech, while pretty new, had been around for at least a few years now. He had done something like this with the pet fish in his aquarium; you wouldn’t even know it wasn’t a real fish.

A couple weeks ago he had thought about what he’d do once the package arrived and his boyfriend-to-be sprung into existence. He had a name picked out, a ‘cool’ wardrobe set aside, some water (the instructions emphasized how important water was), and a list of basic answers to questions that needed answering within the first few hours for everything to go swimmingly. Cognitively, the guy would be able to function like anyone else you’d expect at age 25 (imagine the problems if he were inconsolable or incontinent), but you would still need to introduce them to yourself and their new home.

But before all that happened, you… just put the box in a place with lots of space, flip the box upside-down, pull down all four switches, and back away. Let it do its thing, and reap the rewards. Tim had already activated the online code, so the box was all that was left to do.

He had to work himself up to it. He cleared a few clothes strewn about the carpet, disabled the fire alarm system, made himself look presentable, found his cellphone, closed the other curtains, locked the door… he had even planned when he would share the good news that he ‘found’ someone and that they were dating. He grinned at the thought of showing off a new man to the few platonic friends he had in town.

Tim positioned the box in the clearing between his desk space and the sofa. He took a long and deep breath, then rolled the box over into the necessary position. Once more he looked around, as if taking a mental snapshot of how his life was and how it would change after this moment passed. Then he flipped the four switches on each corner, and slowly backed away.

Within a second or two, the box began spewing an enormous amount of white and gray smoke. After ten seconds, he could no longer see more than a few feet in front of his face. He was prepared for this part, but didn’t realize how much smoke there would be. He involuntarily coughed as he waited for any noise or indication that something was happening within the dense smoke. Was there even supposed to be this much? At this rate it would start spewing out the cracks of the home! He didn’t need the fire department knocking down his door a second time (long story).

As the seconds ticked by, he did start to sense a presence in the room. He couldn’t see anything at all yet, but it was more than an intuition. It felt like the room in front of him was breathing in and out. He wasn’t alone. But the sense that he was being stared at from above, and in a big way, was unnerving.

It seemed like minutes, though it was really only seconds. As the cloudy air in his living room began to dissipate, Tim’s anxiousness turned to confusion.

What was this? Was he imagining things, or… did he see horse legs?

Oh, wow. His ideal boyfriend was coming into his life… on horseback? What a presentation!

Tim grinned at the sheer thought of being impressed upon by his future boyfriend. Though… he didn’t know how to feel about having a horse inside his house. What would happen with the horse once he introduced himself? Something about that didn’t make sense.

The smoke continued to clear. That’s when he made contact with his face, and… scanned his way down his chest…

The horse didn’t have a head. Actually, the horse ended where the man began. The horse and man were one and the same being.

He moved, and he swayed, and then he shifted ever so slightly in front of Tim. He did so as a singular being would. Through the last of the smoke and in the space of his own living room, he was met with a gentle smile and a bow.

“Hello,” the being said, kindly.

Tim didn’t hear it. Well, I mean, he did… but he didn’t acknowledge it. He was stuck trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

It was unreal. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t have a horse of his own, he was the horse! What he was looking at was a centaur.

The being was large, at least three feet taller than Tim. He barely had enough headspace to clear the ceiling in Tim’s living room without having to duck. This made him quite intimidating… And at his size, he commanded the entire living space. He had an aura about him; the creature breathed, rolled his shoulders, absentmindedly readjusted his stance with a stomp of a leg, and swished his tail.

That made it all the more unreal that he had emerged from a seemingly magical box, uninhibited and completely in the nude. Perhaps Tim should’ve suspended his disbelief. He tried to avoid looking at his face, but that didn’t help matters in the slightest. This being’s natural physique should have been everything but natural. The centaur was here, instead of his boyfriend.

But that’s when it hit like a ton of bricks: this centaur was… is supposed to be his boyfriend.

“It’s nice to meet—”

Tim interrupted. “I… I have to make a phone call…”

He said it abruptly, and quietly. He was without confidence, all of it having washed away the moment he saw him. Tim started to back away from the impossibly large creature, nervously, avoiding any possibility to give away his intentions.


Tim walked backward until he was crammed up against his desk, stumbling around the legs of his desk chair. He caught his balance with one hand and sat uncomfortably on the corner of the desk itself, pushing back his keyboard. His other hand fumbled for the cell phone in his pocket.

His hands trembled as he typed in the BYBF website into his phone’s browser app. When the site came up, he looked for the support number. There was something he had read in the “unlikely” scenario of an issue… he couldn’t remember the details but there were a few important notes. If for whatever reason you weren’t satisfied with your companion, the worst thing you could do is engage in direct conversation with them. Once a connection was established, it became increasingly difficult to disconnect the emotional bond set in those first thirty minutes between you and him. If you could hold out for thirty minutes, he was programmed to go into standby mode and then you could call the service.

But that had to be under somewhat ordinary circumstances, right? This guy was huge, there was nowhere Tim could go. He didn’t have thirty minutes!

And what would he even say to clue them into the problem? It was absolute horsesh—uh… well, yeah, that would still apply—to, you know, send him something not human? What were they even thinking by building non-human boyfriends? And even if he could get past thirty minutes without engaging him… there was a centaur in his home! How would he stop him from doing anything without engagement?

Tim racked his brain for a solution, trying to recall anything else he read over a week ago. He was too panicked to find the web page that contained that information. Fear and guilt consumed his mind. He was so, so stupid for ever buying into this gimmick. He was truly destined to be forever alone. And, you know what? Maybe he deserved it.

“Hello?” the centaur said again, slowly ambling around the box he came out of. He turned his gaze toward Tim. “It’s nice to be here.”

It was already getting difficult to pay no attention to him, but Tim had to focus. He kept his attention on his phone’s screen. Finally he found the phone number for customer service, after logging in, and steadied his hand as best he could to dial it. He rotated his wrist to expunge the buildup of anxiety and hoped with any luck it would be Martin who’d answer. He definitely had a thing or two to say to him…

The centaur tilted his head. “What’s your name?”

Tim ignored the question and peddled around with his fingers on his desk. ‘C’mon, pick up…’

But then Tim heard something rattle across the room. The centaur’s back leg knocked into one of the tables near the wall, and a picture frame of Tim and his family fell to the floor. The glass in the frame shattered.

Tim was startled by the noise, and in the process, dropped his phone. The centaur clumsily sidestepped away from the scene, fumbling for balance. He could feel his weight shake the room.


It was so unexpected.

“Oh no…”

And as he looked up to see the picture frame, Tim made a mistake. He should have caught himself, but he was anxious, and panicked, and preoccupied with everything going on. Heck, any normal person with an adverse reaction to loud noises would have made the same mistake, too. Coupled with the movement in his peripheral vision, his hyperactive brain caused him to momentarily lose focus. No matter whether the centaur knocked over a vase, or scuffed the linoleum, or threw a rock at his bay window to say hello to the dog across the street… he would have looked up from his phone.

But Tim didn’t have any space to make mistakes. And the mistake wasn’t that he looked at the source of the noise…. It was that he made eye contact with the centaur.

They both stopped breathing. Tim’s gut reaction was to look away as quickly as possible, and he did. But it was too late; the centaur’s temperament had changed. With that quick glimpse, that one brief moment, Tim noticed it in the centaur’s expression: there was pain. It was as though he had broken a family heirloom, even though the glass and the frame was some cheap off-brand thing any guy would find at the dollar store.

Even though Tim was purposefully not looking at him anymore, he could sense that the centaur was looking back. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry…” the centaur said dejectedly. He wrapped himself with his bare arms, stepping carefully away from the mess.

Tim closed his eyes as hard as he could, and whined inwardly. The vision of pain in his face was implanted in his memory now. It was so unbelievably brief. There was no way he could’ve actually gleaned anything from that. But somehow he did, and it continually dug into his mind. He saw something there in the centaur’s eyes that he had only seen a handful of times before in others: deep, genuine concern, manifested in an expression of pain. Not like how a guidance counselor looks at you when they want your grades to go up, or your mother when she wants you home early; this was deeper. The centaur wanted his approval, and he had shattered it—literally and figuratively.

Wait: did that mean he could sense Tim’s hostility too? Because he had been designed to Tim’s specifications—the human half, at least—the concerned face that had looked at him was…

It was one of the most beautiful, innocent things he could have imagined.

It was precious, sincere, and authentic. The way the creviced outline in his chin tucked down in embarrassment, and his strong jaw accentuated his prominent nose. The way his discontent with himself reflected in his large brown eyes, now on the verge of tears, fluttering under heavy lids and lashes. Tim loved men with thicker eyebrows, and the dark brown hair that swooped in all sorts of ways over his forehead gave his visage an exotic, almost spiritual allure. His human half, covered in lightly tanned skin, with formidable pectoral muscles, and broad shoulders, were accented but slouching. The hair on his arms that scattered down the middle of his chest was the same color as his hide, but covered in goosebumps. He didn’t have much of a six-pack, but you could tell there was some strength to behold. His two hard-working hands looked capable enough to crush an aluminum can, but again… he kept them to himself out of shame for the ruckus he had caused.

And, well—despite all logic—his stallion’s body was quivering. It was covered in brown fur, save for the darker tufts near each of his four bulky hooves, with sporadic splotches of lighter brown along his backside. His unkempt but glossy black hair trailed down the center of his spine and ended with a ropey tail, which swished again from stress.

Tails were so confusing and inhuman; it was hard to imagine a human brain being in control of one. But Tim couldn’t make eye contact long enough to compose the thought that he wasn’t human, because he was acting so human. Tim stared at the floor as hard as he could. He knew the centaur was hoping for his eyes, and he wouldn’t give them. He couldn’t!

The centaur shifted his legs around the broken glass. He trotted over and looked down at Tim. The air moved so gently now, the only noise he could hear was coming from the cars outside.

“It was a mistake. I promise to be more careful…”

The tone in his voice was so reassuring, and comforting.

“… for you.”

Oh, the sincerity… damn! Tim was crumbling under the pressure. That voice! It was so soothing. With each word it felt like several years of negative emotions locked away were obliterated from his soul by this gentle caretaker. The centaur was pulling at his heartstrings with every note he sung, and with every word he crafted.

God damn it. This. This! The only thing Tim had ever wanted… was this. He wanted someone to show him unwarranted compassion, even at a moment of weakness, in an effort to say ‘I’m here for you’. He wanted devotion. He didn’t even need to look at his face; he could feel what was going on in his soul, and the centaur in his. There was a connection that needed no eye contact, and that was making him tremble all over again.

But it wasn’t from being nervous or anxious; it was because he was falling… falling… Yes. No! Yes. That realization quickly replaced his breathlessness with a brand new understanding. And with that understanding, his lips began moving before he could stop them.

“It’s okay.”

The centaur was still there. As the words resonated in the room, the centaur smiled at Tim warmly.

A slight sense of bashfulness washed over Tim’s face. “But, uh… Mmm.”

He had started to talk again, but caught himself. The centaur being in his house was an inexplicable mistake and a huge problem; he needed him to go back into the box to the factory or wherever he came from and report himself to BYBF for… fixing? Who knows.

But Tim’s heart was very unsteady, embroiled in his subconscious’ feelings. That face… that voice… he had directly responded to him now. What did that mean? No, it… it meant nothing. He didn’t need to outline the details of this issue to the centaur. He needed to pick up his phone and redial the support line.

Then the centaur trotted back up to him, and put one of his hands on Tim’s shoulder. Tim let out a stifled breath, and the centaur hummed. His hands were so large, but his touch was so light… he could feel a warmth through his clothing that no other guy had ever given him.

“I’m very sorry. It was my fault. I will clean this up.”

He kept his hand on his shoulder for another moment, rolling it back and forth to comfort him. This was evaporating all of Tim’s willpower. He was literally shouting instructions in his mind to stay on track: ‘Keep your hands pinned to your sides! Don’t you dare move a muscle!’ This was ridiculous; you couldn’t fall in love with a centaur! You can’t! You mustn’t!

The cellphone was on the floor. Tim needed to call the hotline. He couldn’t do that if he was being touched—and he was losing touch with reality, fast! He was mentally weak… with each rub of his hand, he wanted so badly to return that touch. He could reach up and—he didn’t know why—caress his shoulder too. ‘I know you didn’t mean to break the frame, mistakes can happen, we can clean it up together…’ he’d say. He wanted to feel his skin, the hairs on his chest, and beyond, and…

Really, stop! He shouldn’t be feeling like this! What was this emotional turmoil? The man was literally half-animal and… and…

“You have a wonderfully decorated home. Is this where you live?”

Wait a second… After exchanging pleasantries and formalizing connections, the centaur was proceeding to the next theoretical step in his ‘setup’ process—exploring his new environment. Shit; that was bad. The window to fix all of this was closing fast.

The centaur pointed to the accented wall near the dining table. “Blue is such a calming color. I like it.” Turning away from Tim, he trotted to the table to kneel down and pick up the pieces of the damaged frame. Maybe it was in reaction to the idea that Tim wasn’t reacting to his comments, but this was happening of the centaur’s own free will. So Tim used that moment to risk looking up and… well, the centaur’s rear was now facing him and…

Tim couldn’t deny it any longer. He was turned on. He could feel something within him stir up that fluttery feeling, and it was directly affecting the boner he’d been trying so hard not to pop until that moment.

As if on cue, the centaur turned around and smiled in such a way that… they made eye contact again.

That was the dagger. This time, Tim could no longer fight back. There were no harmful words he could utter, or deceptive tricks he could think of, to lock away his feelings. He was smitten for attention, and that centaur… He was the smiling man in his life that he had wanted for so many years.

He was here. Tim was giving in.


It came out a bit muttered and shy, but the silence was officially broken.


The centaur stopped picking up the pieces of glass, one of those thick eyebrows raised ever so quizzically. Tim sighed.

“My name is Tim. And… yeah, this is my home. I live alone.”

At that, the centaur stood up fast, its front legs first, then his back ones. It happened so naturally.

“Tim? Like Timothy? Cute!” He hopped a little bit and stomped lightly on the carpeting. It was like an excited twitch that Tim found exceptionally adorable.

If… this was really going to be how it was, he would need to proceed with the rest of the ‘setup’ process. Deal with the ramifications later, call BYBF Support, determine whether something could be worked out. There had to be a way to adjust this.

“Your name shall be Xavier,” Tim recited, as the manual had directed. “… You are 25 years old, just like me.”

“Great! Thank you. I am Xavier, and I am 25.”

Tim gestured to the lounge chair near the front bay windows. “I am giving you a set of clothes to—” He stopped when he realized this half-horse being could only wear the hat and shirts he laid out.

“Uh… well, I can give you the shirts to wear. I don’t think…” Tim idled more, waving at the horse half, as if it were a different being entirely. “… the pants and stuff make sense.”

The theoretical window to fix this was sealed shut, but Tim’s desire to get Xavier out of his home was strangely less urgent. He could choose to be angry that this happened, or go with the flow and see what mystifying experiences became of it. Maybe they could even solve this problem together, and it would become something of a benefit later on.

“I appreciate this gesture,” Xavier said, leaning down to pick up the white long-sleeve shirt. “We just met, so I could understand not wanting to share anything with me.”

Tim so badly wanted to respond with something like ‘Yes, because this is crazy, I don’t want to share things with a horse-man, also how exactly can you exist?’ But Tim stood there, set adrift by Xavier’s soft cadence in contrast to his formidable musculature. Every single movement—in this instance, pulling the shirt over his head and down so it rested gently on the hips (shoulders) of his equine forelegs—was majestic. The second piece of clothing, a cobalt blue colored sweater vest, completed the look. For what it was worth, he looked classy—just the way Tim liked.

“That’s much more comfortable, thanks!” he said happily. “Do I look okay in this?”

Tim passively nodded.

“Thank you. I like your clothes too!”

He looked down at his own t-shirt, wondering what could possibly be considered so great about what he was wearing. His self-esteem about his own image was low, but … that was supposed to be balanced out by a perfect boyfriend who would always say the right thing at the right time. He wanted a guy that was vulnerable, and sensitive, but gave support when Tim needed it.

Maybe this wasn’t that difficult.

“Actually… um, Xavier, there’s a problem.”

The beaming centaur’s face quickly changed to a concerned one. “What’s wrong?”

He began to move. Each leg took its turn, and the sweater-vested centaur clambered over and approached Tim. This time, he actually kneeled down on his forelegs so they could be at face level with each other. In doing so, it was like they were the only living beings on Earth. In that space, he seemed only human.

His cock twitched in his pants. Never mind, it was extremely difficult. Tim was melting away again, and Xavier was the sun.

He lightly tugged the vest’s fabric. “Should I try on something else?”

“No! Well… no, I mean… You’re…”

He willed himself to look at Xavier’s eyes. They glimmered with passion. He was so intent on making him happy with every gaze. It shook Tim to his core. How could a guy do this to him?

Well, he knew how… It was in his design. But Tim just couldn’t deny it.

“…I love you.”

There was a moment of silence between them. He could feel his breath get sucked in, as if realizing the words that were just said. Then Xavier smiled. “You silly goose, that’s not a problem!”

He placed his hand again on Tim’s shoulder, and lowered his head so they were unavoidably looking at each other. “I know we just met, but… I think I can sense it.”

Then, in that moment, Xavier said it: “Maybe it’s love at first sight.”

There. Those words. They were the final seal.

Per BYBF, they were officially bonded together.

Xavier leaned in, and Tim just accepted it. They locked lips, and in that instant, the remaining anxiety washed away. He took his hands out of his pockets and Xavier wrapped an arm around Tim’s back, pulling himself closer to his upper chest. Damn, he even smelled good! Xavier sat his back legs down to cover up anything promiscuous that Tim may have not noticed, and Tim’s hardon pushed against the zipper of his jeans.

He was surprised with himself. How could he give in to a… centaur, so quickly and so completely? This guy, he was an absolute mistake!

But that was the thing: it was a mistake. But the looks he gave him, his temperament, his innocence… they were not. This guy was what he wanted. Xavier was a centaur, no denying it: he wasn’t what he had in mind.

But that was how love should be. In all other ways, from his sexy body to the comfort and truthfulness and support he gave, Xavier was perfect. Tim figured how hard it would be to push that away and somehow get something more perfect than this, without feeling regret for what would be thrown away.

Tim smiled as they kissed. It wouldn’t be easy, but he would keep him.


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