Regression - Second Chance At Life Chapter 1: Adam Grant

A hefty middle-aged man sporting a vast receding hairline lounges on his shabby, stained couch, eyes glued to the television. Adam Grant is the name of this man.

Moans blare from the TV, echoing through the room. The fat man has his cock exposed. Crumpled tissues litter the floor, while a lotion bottle rests on the table next to several beer bottles, most drained dry. He's finished jerking off already, but sheer laziness keeps his pants off.

His gaze remains fixed on the porn flicking across the TV screen—a guy with a massive dick ravaging his stepmom's pussy like mad, or so the title claims.

This particular video caught his eye today because memories of his own stepmother flooded his mind.

She ranks as the one person he despises most in the world, the root of nearly all his life's suffering, yet he can't deny his burning lust for her—she was one hell of a sexy woman.

A breathtaking beauty with a gorgeous face and an incredible figure defined her.

His stepmother, a classic gold digger, wed his father purely for his wealth, then schemed to erase Adam from the will entirely. She cheated on his dad constantly too, given the old man's workaholic ways left no room for anyone else.

Adam held no grudge against her for the affairs—hell, he didn't even love his father. In his view, the bastard deserved it.

What fueled Adam's hatred was her greedily claiming every last bit of his inheritance, leaving him penniless.

Through cunning persuasion, she convinced Adam's father to cut him out completely, arguing that Adam must learn self-reliance, just as his old man had in youth. Being a self-made success, the father fell for it, axing Adam from the will to ignite some drive in him and push him toward independence.

His intention was to restore Adam to the will once the boy proved capable of standing on his own.

Tragedy struck when Adam's father died suddenly, and his stepmother promptly evicted Adam, forcing him into the streets. From that moment, his existence turned into pure hell.

Booze, drugs, and dead-end minimum-wage gigs defined his days, with no real talents to lift him higher. Fast food became his staple, cheap and easy.

In those dark times, he'd bitterly curse his wicked stepmother for his downfall, only to recall her stunning allure and sex appeal, sparking instant arousal. Fantasies of banging her consumed him, much like spying on her real romps with lovers while his father was gone.

Post-climax clarity always hit hard after, leaving him damning himself as a total pathetic failure.

Today followed the exact same pattern. Stepmom memories stirred his loins, prompting him to queue up the perfect porn match.

"I was such a loser," he mutters, grabbing a half-full beer bottle for a swig. "Who am I kidding? I'm still a loser, maybe a lesser one now, but still a loser," he adds, gulping it down again.

Any onlooker now would peg him as an even bigger loser. Yet in his head, Adam sees his younger self as the true bottom-feeder—riddled with insecurity, crippling shyness, and zero social skills.

Challenges the present Adam breezes through. Rock bottom in society's eyes has numbed him to judgment; he couldn't care less about the world's opinions anymore. A rhino-thick hide has formed.

Those skills come easy to him now, but to what end? He's a bloated, hideous slob, broke as hell, with zero appeal for friendships.

"Fuck, I need more beer," he grumbles as his bottle runs dry. He tosses it aside and keeps eyeing the porn.

The blonde on screen taking a brutal pounding reignites his horniness.

"Maybe I should call a hooker. Got enough cash saved up," he decides, pulling out his phone.

Online prostitution thrives as a massive industry nowadays, letting anyone summon a working girl via app right to their door. It's raked in billions.

He browses a trusted app, hunting for a blonde in her mid-30s with a hot physique—ideally echoing his stepmother even faintly.

Spotting a match, he books her. Arrival in two hours.

"I should tidy up," he thinks.

The online prostitution surge prompted companies to enforce tough standards.

Customers rate hookers on performance and attitude, but prostitutes rate clients too—on appearance, courtesy, treatment, and more. Low-rated johns get avoided like the plague.

Up until now, Adam has maintained a respectable rating, as it's the sole reason anyone would sleep with him. He must ensure his rating remains above average.

"Let's get this over with," he mutters while standing up, unaware of the bottle positioned directly underfoot. His foot lands on it, causing him to slip.

"Fuck," that's the only word he utters as his bulky frame crashes down. The rear of his head strikes the table's edge, and darkness engulfs him.

He is dead.