Hi and welcome. This is my newest endeavor into the world of Twific. Just to give you a better summary, try this:

I, Edward Cullen lose a bet - what bet, you ask? God, does it even matter? I lose a bet, and now I'm here, in this gay club, with this huge guy grinding on me. There are perfect girls everywhere, enjoying the freedom of dancing without wandering male eyes, unaware of my gaze following the sway of their tits. Little do I know that the big guy grinding on me will become my gaytor, or so he calls himself - my gay tutor. Because I, Edward Cullen, will have to pretend to be gay to keep the man-hating Bella Swan in my life, as my roommate, my best friend, and the girl I fall in love with.

Here is the prologue, set in the future. Enjoy!

And as always, you can follow me on twitter (pinkeveningsky) for update info on fics, and to listen to me complain. I complain so good. I am also a VIP author over at ADF, and my updates can be found there as well!

Disclaimer: Stephenie owns the rights. I own the depraved mind.

I blame it on the alcohol. I know there are several god-awful auto tuned songs that blame it on the alcohol, so why can't I? It got me here, in this mess. I'm sitting here, staring at my friends – friends, ha – while all of them stare back at me. They want me to say something, do something… at least Emmett does, that asshole. He's the only one who knows my secret. And he's sitting there, across from me, smirking, waiting for me to react.

I might have suppressed it these past months, but the overwhelming desire to go ape-shit, I mean really ape-shit, full on fists and teeth – No Edward, teeth is wrong – is making blood pulse through my veins. My eye is twitching. My jaw is clenching.

Bella saves me. God, that beautiful, stupid girl, so oblivious, so fine. She yawns – Jager makes her sleepy – and throws something at Emmett.

"No, that is so boring. Ugh, who are you people?" She shoots a glare at Emmett, and I grin, because Emmett loves Bella, that treacherous big gay.

We are all drunk, so drunk that truth or dare sounded like an excellent idea. So drunk that Emmett thought it would be hilarious to dare me to kiss him, to get his biggest wish. No, not a kiss from me. His biggest wish is to be around when I finally break. Break down, break out, break away. Now I am quoting Kelly Clarkson – God, I have been playing this part for too long.

"What would you prefer, then, princess?" Emmett asks, and she rests her head against his shoulder.

"Edward just said how kissing for you guys is like shaking hands for straight people."

Emmett snorts, and I choke on my Smirnoff – I am drinking a Smirnoff, oh god, get me out of the gay.

"Is that so?" Emmett asks, his eyes so bright he looks like Old Saint Nick's homosexual brother.

"Uh huh," Bella continues, adorable, beautiful, drunk and sleepy. "He said that blowjobs are like, first base, too. So kissing is just not a satisfactory dare."

By this time, Emmett looks like he's about to explode with laughter, and I know tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever I wake up from this nightmare, he will be reaming me.

"Okay, fine," Emmett relents. I see that look on his face, and I know that whatever is coming is about ten times worse. "I dare you to kiss Bella, then, Edward."

And it's my wildest dream, my deepest fantasy. I'm so deep into this charade that my once X-rated mind has dwindled, and I beat off to the thought of finally catching her with my mouth and my tongue and her mouth and her lips and oh god, my cock, it's so hard.

She has no idea, no clue what she does to me. She walks around topless half the time, completely unaware of how fucking gorgeous she is, how perfect her tits are, how much I want them in my hands, my mouth, around my cock. She asked me to feel them once, to give her my honest opinion, are they too small? Too saggy? B-cups sag too, Edward.

Like I didn't know. Like I hadn't seen a lot of tits in my life, like I didn't know at that moment hers were the most perfect in this whole universe. And it all started because I lost a bet, a stupid bet that was supposed to go on for one night, but because that stupid, gorgeous girl beguiled me, I continued, just to be close to her.

And now she's biting her lip at me, shy. She hates boys, straight boys – they creep her out, she always says. They make her so uncomfortable, why are they staring at me, Edward? Because you're gorgeous, so hot, so sexy, oh god, I'm so turned on I can't even think straight.

Then she's coming towards me, determined, like kissing me is no big deal because that's the thing, it's not to her. But to me, it's everything I've hoped for in my depraved mind, my deceitful mind.

But it's no big deal to her, nothing at all. Because to Bella Swan, owner of the most perfect tits and quite possibly my heart, I am gay.

And so, so fucked.

I'm going to say this now, and hopefully I won't have to again. This story is going to follow a straight male's thoughts about the gay lifestyle. THESE THOUGHTS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Some of you may find it offensive, but I am going to try my very hardest to keep it ironic and funny (maybe) instead of 'omg so RUDE.' My best friend is gay, and he is (unknowingly) feeding me advice and blurbs about the gay lifestyle. Please, please, please do not be offended. I beg you. I implore you. I love you.