Welcome to the beginning of an interactive story. Each chapter will take you through paths of desire, submission, power, discovery, and play. At the end of each installment, you will have the option to decide which path the protagonist will take. You are in charge, you choose, you shape the destiny of this story. If you like this proposal, let me know in the comments. If there is participation, I will continue writing chapter by chapter according to what you decide. The story is alive… and you are part of it.

Chapter 1: The Invitation

The microwave's beeping broke the silence of the apartment. Martin didn't move from the couch. He had a lost gaze in the dark reflection of the turned-off TV, surrounded by the elongated shadows of his own laziness. Another Friday night, another half-drunk warm beer, another unreturned voice message from his ex. The air smelled of confinement, rotten routines. It was as if his life was on pause.

He was thirty years old, and had the body of someone who seemed to need nothing more than a mirror and a gym. But Martin knew that there was something more inside, something unsatisfied, dark, that couldn't be resolved with a quick run in front of the laptop or an occasional hookup from Grindr. There was a constant restlessness in his chest, a pang behind his tongue every time he said that everything was fine. A whisper that screamed at him: lie, lie, lie.

He turned on his mobile phone. He looked at the WhatsApp icon. "Last seen: 4 days ago". His ex. Leo. He had left without looking back. "I can't take your wall, your facade anymore," he had said. "I don't want to fuck with a mask." Martin didn't respond. Because he didn't know how to take it off. Nor did he know if what was underneath would be likable.

He then remembered an afternoon a few months ago, in a semi-empty terrace in Malasaña. Leo had taken off his shirt under the table, looked at him with that smile of his that mixed tenderness and provocation, and pushed him to follow him to the bar's bathroom. Among the smell of old beer and humid tiles, he kissed him forcefully and knelt down without asking for permission. Martin let him do it. He looked at the poorly closed latch, attentive to any noise, while feeling Leo's mouth engulfing him with hunger. Everything was precise, ardent... but he didn't tremble. He didn't get lost in that heat. He lived it from afar, as if he were watching his own body from a corner of the ceiling.

On another occasion, it was in a park at night. Leo had grabbed him by the neck with a firm hand while pushing him against a tree. "I want you like this, surrendered," he had whispered. Martin let him do it. He lowered his pants without saying a word, while the branches whispered above them. Leo took him standing up, quickly, without looking him in the eye. When they finished, Leo was panting as if he had crossed the sky. Martin pulled up his underpants without a single drop of sweat on his ...