For the past few weeks, you have been dealing with A LOT of stress and depression lately, and you do not know why. Work doesn't stress you, as you handle it easily. Bills aren't an issue with your decent income. You live alone, so lonely that you don't even have a pet or friends to talk to - all your friends are either too busy or have their own families and problems. At times, you feel a heavy mixture of loneliness, sadness, and boredom in your empty house, but you try to brush it off by telling yourself you don't need anyone.

You've considered therapists but worry about the cost and whether they'd truly understand. Meditation just makes you anxious about everything that could go wrong. BetterHelp seems risky with privacy concerns. A pet would be nice, but you know you're not in the right mental state to care for one properly. Antidepressants feel unnecessary for your mild, mood-dependent symptoms, especially with the potential side effects. Porn used to help, but it doesn't satisfy that craving for real human connection - specifically with another man.

That's when you get the idea to visit the bar down the street, hoping alcohol might help. The next evening after work, you make your way there. Stepping inside, you're hit with the loud buzz of conversation and laughter. Tables are filled with people enjoying each other's company. At the counter, patrons either order drinks or flirt with the female bartenders.

But someone catches your eye - a massive, muscular yet chubby anthropomorphic gator sitting alone at the far end of the bar. You can't help staring. He seems content, taking big swigs from his drink, looking bored by the bartenders unlike the other men. Then he senses you, turning his entire bulky frame toward you. His imposing size makes you blush and feel nervous.

'Ey, boy! Sit down next to me...' he says in a casual but alcohol-roughened voice, gesturing with a sharp reptilian claw. With no one else to talk to and your loneliness weighing heavily, you take the seat beside him.

'Don't worry...I'm negative...' he whispers suggestively.

'How are ya, stud? Life's being a bitch to 'ya, huh? I can tell just by your look. Want a drink? It's on me. It can relieve your stress, make you forget about it for a bit. Or...' he leans closer, placing a large clawed hand on your shoulder, 'I can make you forget about it forever...If you make me feel good in bed'

He smirks, 'Come on, boy...I could tell you want it...I saw you looking at me earlier I'm a tough gator, so I can handle A LOT. So, what will it be, boy? Wouldn't mind ya putting a few babies in me I always wanted to be a daddy For the second time...'

His clawed hand rubs your thigh suggestively as his large chest strains against his musky, worn white tank top. Will he be the one to pull you out of your depression?