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The Hollywood Agency Book -2-
Chapter 6: “Lights, Camera, Action!”
Callum was still sitting in the sofa, exhausted by his huge cumshot, when he heard Mr. Meyers inquire: "Are you finished nutting, Callum?"
"Yes, Sir," he managed to croak out.
"Then get your ass over here so we can start taking photos," Mr. Meyers rejoined with a hint of impatience.
"Yes, Sir," Callum responded, immediately getting to his feet. He was a little bit unsteady at first but after he took a few steps he regained his balance. It was only when he turned and faced Mr. Meyers and Troy that he remembered that pretty much his entire upper body was now splattered with a viscous coating of spunk that was slowly running down his torso. Just a short glance at Troy's smirking face was enough to make his entire body flush with embarrassment.
There was no question that his new Agent could also see the dripping remnants of Callum's orgasm, nicely displayed as white ooze, perfectly displayed on the athletes deep tan. The ripples of his six pack caught some cum, but most of it had found its way and started to drop down. Meyers almost immediately turned to his secretary.
"Troy, don't just stand there. Go get a damp wash cloth. Obviously, we're going to have to clean Callum up before we shoot any photos, and I don't want to have stains on my carpet!"
As Callum stood there quietly, Troy headed towards the doorway which hid the private bathroom connected to Mr. Meyers' office. Though he was now positioned directly in front of Mr. Meyers, the boy kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Standing there naked in his Boss' office with drying cum coating his body, made Callum feel incredibly dirty.
Even though he realized that he had only done what his manager had told him to do, he still felt just like a little boy who'd been caught jerking off by one of his parents. And the longer he stood there, the more embarrassed he felt. And, adding to his embarrassment, his cock was still not soft, but stood chubby and prominent, still glistening with a coat of cum between his legs.
"Callum, look at me," Mr. Meyers suddenly ordered.
Callum forced himself to raise his eyes until he was looking in his Agent's face. He tried to keep his own face impassive but he could feel his lower lip trembling and, for the second time that afternoon, he realized he was on the verge of tears. God, what was happening to him? It was like he was turning into a puny faggot, a wimpy pansy, crying all the time just like a little girl who'd skinned her knee. He had to get a grip on himself.
Mr. Meyers was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and concern on his face. He did not show his delight while his plans were rolling along so nicely. Callum's mind seemed to be in turmoil, just as planned, and the Agent drank in the young sexy man’s insecurity that would make it so easy to tame him, rein him in, use and abuse him in the future.
"What is the matter with you, Callum?" he asked. "Every time we seem to be making a little progress in overcoming your self-consciousness about your body and I think you're on your way to a successful modeling career you turn around and disappoint me by reverting to your old attitudes."
Again Mr. Meyers stayed calm and played his role perfectly, even though it was hard for him to regain his composure after he had watched the lewd display of the newest model's jerk-off-session. His words were aimed to hit the bullseye, and Meyers heard his model's voice shake as he answered:
“But, Sir," Callum replied, stung by Mr. Meyers' criticism, "I just jerked myself off while all those people in the offices across the street could see me."
"First off," Mr. Meyers responded with real vehemence.
"Like I told you, they'd need a pair of binoculars to clearly see you shooting your load. All they could really see was some guy, who might be naked, sitting on a sofa. But, more importantly, what the fuck do you care if a bunch of voyeurs get excited watching you pound your meat? How the hell does that affect you?"
Meyers used his words carefully, choosing profanities to talk down to Callum while before he had just used the most civil and polite language.
"Well, Sir..." Callum began and then paused, suddenly at a loss of words to explain why masturbating on the couch had upset him so much.
"It's just that, you know, it's kinda a private thing, jerking off I mean, and it's kinda embarrassing when somebody else is watching you do it."
"Why?" Mr. Meyers pressed him. "Do you have a small cock? Did you shoot a puny load from a pair of little-boy balls?"
"No... No, sir," Callum admitted.
"Then I repeat my question! Callum, what the fuck do you care if a bunch of total strangers get turned on watching you masturbate? How the fuck does that affect you?'"
Before Callum could even try to answer, Mr. Meyers was speaking again.
"Besides, Callum, regardless of how you think you felt or, more accurately, how you think you should feel, the fact is that you were turned on by playing with yourself while other people watched. Look at the load you shot. And how quickly you did it. If you were really embarrassed by masturbating in public you wouldn't have been able to cum at all, much less in the volume you did. Face it, Callum: At least part of you is a closet exhibitionist."
Meyers had a hard time not to grin smugly.
"Oh, I don't think so, Sir," Callum equivocated, no longer sure what he felt. He clearly knew Troy watched him closely, and he knew perfectly well his dick hadn't gone soft, even if he had just spurted a huge geyser of hot white boy cum. Troy had gathered the damp towels to clean Callum up, but waited for the Boss to finish his speech before he handed them to Callum, so the proof was still on him, slowly drying.
"Callum, you want to be a model," Mr. Meyers explained. "Being an exhibitionist comes with the territory. It's a good thing. In fact, for a model it's absolutely necessary. What we have to do is figure out how to bring your latent exhibitionism out of the closet and put your excessive modesty in there in its place."
"Yes, Sir," Callum agreed, his mind reeling, once again amazed at how smart his Agent was.
Callum had never had the slightest inkling that he had exhibitionist tendencies but it was clear, just listening to Mr. Meyers, that he did. Once again, he told himself he had to just do whatever Mr. Meyers told him to. This man was obviously his ticket to fame and fortune and all Callum had to do was not screw it up and make sure that the man was happy with him.
He did not even realize his dick was slowly growing again, now that he accepted the fact of being an exhibitionist.
So Callum stood there, quietly holding his stance, while Troy started to wipe the cum off Callum's muscled body, not surprisingly taking the opportunity to feel Callum up in the most intimate way. Callum just waited and let the little faggot have his fun. He wasn't about to let a little molestation get in the way of making a success of himself.
After Troy had finally managed to wipe off the last strands of cum from Callum's torso, they immediately began the photo-shoot, even though the model's dick had started to chub up again. It was a lot harder work than Callum would have imagined. Because they couldn't be sure how long Callum's erection problem would remain under control, they began with swimsuits and then moved on to underwear.
It only took maybe ten minutes before Callum had worked out the procedure. He'd put on a swimsuit, take up numerous poses in front of a white backdrop and then move over to the sofa and go through another series of poses. Then it was back up, strip off the swimsuit he was wearing, put on a new one, and start the whole process all over again.
He had no idea the whole process was not only watched by the eye of Troy's stills camera, but also several high definition digital video cameras filmed the whole session, directly saving the footage to a highly secured server, ready to be edited, digitally mastered, and worked over using AI. Troy was a real master in the art of producing the sexy stuff their users wanted to see.
Mr. Meyers carefully directed the photo shoot, maintaining an air of professionalism meant to train Callum to take even the most demanding orders from a photographer. He needed to be taught that the art-director or the photographer is always right, that the client is King, and the model is merely no more than an object of desire. In short, Meyers trained his newest model to be as submissive as he could be.
They started with a pair of board shorts and then progressively worked down in size.
The last three thongs he modeled provided virtually no coverage at all. The last one, in fact, left the top inch of his dick totally exposed.
He couldn't imagine what type of guy would ever wear a thong like that on a beach – he'd have to be a raging faggot, for sure – but Callum now also fully appreciated why Mr. Meyers had insisted on shaving his entire body. His pubes would have been clearly visible in half of the photos – if he'd still had any.
Another thing he quickly noticed was that both Troy and Mr. Meyers had been right about his tan lines. As the swimsuits got progressively smaller the area of his groin that was untanned became more prominent. It did make it obvious that the suits Callum was modeling were not swimsuits that he ever wore in real life.
Callum could see why that might make the advertisers unhappy. Actually seeing the problem his present tan-lines created gave Callum a greater resolve to spend every sunny day working on his all-over tan on the roof upstairs.
He was also impressed, though he was reluctant to admit it, with how Troy's attitude and demeanor changed once he began shooting the photos. The leering looks, the air-kisses, were all gone. It was obvious that Troy was a real professional when it came to photography so Callum found himself assuming the poses that Troy wanted without second-guessing him – even the ones on the couch that seemed to present him more as a sex object than a model of men's swimsuits and underwear.
It did not even occur to him that his dick by now had grown to a size that the small thong could not hide anymore, and Troy still took pics as if nothing happened.
Even though Callum’s cock had remained soft for most of the shoot, the tightness of the swimsuits and underwear he was modeling clearly had already shown the outline of his meaty dick. Callum could do nothing to will his dick down, and now not even the break helped to get soft.
He felt that the photos being taken now were more appropriate for the opening scene of a porn movie than for an advertisement selling swimsuits or underwear.
He was not even mistaken, since his more than half hard dick clearly showed in the pose, as his small piece of swimwear did no good job in hiding or at least holding his junk.
One pose, in particular, seemed designed to present Callum in an especially lurid light.
Callum was posed leaning back on the couch, his legs spread widely apart. Once he had settled in to the pose, Troy had Callum rest his right hand on his upper thigh just at his knee and then bring his left hand up behind his head, to show off his muscled arm and tight pecs.
Not surprisingly, it was only a matter of time until both his nips hardened up, while his dick once again stood hard and proud.
Callum had no idea that this pose on the couch was designed to draw attention to his endowment.
Troy knew that the pose would look like the model was about to jerk off. He had manipulated Callum to sit down naked while changing, and even though he had no camera in his hand, he shot numerous perfect shoots with the hidden cams.
If Callum had known he was filmed as well, he would have freaked out.
However: Both Mr. Meyers and Troy assured him he looked great, he assumed the poses whenever they asked for them.
After the short break, Troy made him wear the more explicit pieces.
The model's dick had pretty much behaved itself until the last few items of underwear. He had just begun modeling a Scandal lace micro-thong. Looking at it before he put it on, it reminded Callum more of women's panties than a man's briefs. It was totally covered in frilly black lace which, Callum quickly realized, would do little to actually obscure his cock and balls even when he was wearing it.
Callum was surprised at how it felt as he slid it over his crotch. It was a tight fit – as all the swimsuits and underwear had been – but the feeling of the lace on his freshly shaven skin seemed to have an electric effect on him. Before he knew it, his nine-incher was once again jutting proudly out from his groin.
He had no idea that the soda he had while they prepared him for the last part of the shooting might be responsible for his bodies' reactions. The drink had been laced with an extra big dose of sex-drugs.
There was a slight delay as Troy and Meyers discussed what they should do about Callum's re-arousal. Mr. Meyers ultimately decided that the model’s hardon didn’t matter.
The remaining items of underwear provided little covering for Callum's genitals anyway – they were obviously designed for the bedroom, not for everyday use.
The companies purveying them would probably love to have them displayed on an obviously aroused model, particularly one as well-hung as Callum was. Despite his usual shy self, Callum was showing only a little discomfort by this turn of events.
He had already understood Mr. Meyers’ view: It was completely proper to exploit a model’s good looks and sexy physique to display both Callum and the items prospective advertisers were pushing.
Having photographs taken of his erect cock, particularly when he was modeling items like the Good Devil Man-Lifter, basically just a strap around his waist with a piece of spandex hanging down that he stuck his junk through, was getting pretty damn close to out and out pornography.
At least that's what Callum normally would have thought. It was obvious that neither Troy nor Mr. Meyers felt any similar concerns as they proceeded to complete the shoot from that point on without the slightest effort to obscure the fact that their model was sporting a full boner.
Having already been chastised a number of times that day for his excessive modesty, Callum didn't feel confident enough to voice any of his misgivings. Instead, he just dutifully assumed the poses that Troy directed and let him shoot the pictures that he wanted to.
He had no idea that his lowered guards were not merely an effect of carefully dosed chemicals, but also of the devious brainwashing his new Boss gave him..
Troy had even toyed with the idea to speed up the process: He was dreaming about the blond god in tight rubber, even though he knew his Dad wouldn’t give permission….. Yet.
But it didn’t hurt to dream.
When he finally stripped the last item of underwear off his body, another item from Good Devil, identified as a Ballz Out Extreme Lifter, which consisted only of a red strap around his waist with a small piece of sheer red fabric stretching down to encase his erect penis, leaving his balls completely exposed, Callum was relieved that this first photo session was over.
Except it wasn't.
Troy excused himself and then returned after a few minutes with an armful of shirts.
The cloth-hangers had everything from cut-off tank tops to formal dress shirts.
Troy passed Callum one of the cut-off tank tops and the next thing Callum knew, they were back in the middle of the photo-shoot.
It took at least an hour to work their way through all of the shirts Troy had selected. Callum couldn't help it: Although he was modeling shirts, he was naked from the waist down. Troy wouldn't stop for a second, and Callum submitted to the orders of the photographer.
Callum understood that Mr. Meyers wanted to work on the model’s insecurities about his body, but it really seemed weird to be posing in a tight polo shirt and look down at his body and see his hard dick jutting straight out from underneath the bottom of the material.
While Troy generally focused on Callum's upper body when snapping his photos, at least one or two in every set were full-length pictures which showed just how naked and hard he actually was while he was posing.
To the all seeing eye of the camera in Troy's hand Callum looked like a careless young slut, offering his goods.
Perhaps the worst part of the entire shirt-portion of the photo-shoot came with the dress shirts.
A number of these shirts just didn't hang properly since they were designed to be worn inside trousers and the absence of at least a belt to cinch-up the fabric made them droop as if they were too large.
But rather than just tell Callum to put on the slacks he'd worn to the office, Mr. Meyers walked over and picked up the bright red Ballz Out Extreme Lifter and told Callum to put it on.
Meyers directed Troy to pull the shirt tails through the red strap which went around Callum's waist, and take the picture like that. It worked, provided they kept the strap out of the photos. So, for the rest of the photos, Callum wore the Ballz Out Lifter.
He was sure it was clearly visible in any of the full length photos, leaving his hard dick jutting out above his shaven ball-sac.
By the time the photo-shoot finally ended, Callum felt exhausted, but his cock betrayed him.
It was still at full mast. Mr. Meyers marveled at the boy's stamina, which was a most inconvenient asset for the sake of the photo shootings they wanted to do, and voiced this clearly, making Callum feel guilty over his body’s reactions.
Troy picked up all the items Callum had posed in and headed out the door, telling the Boss that he'd get right on the photos, as soon as he got the clothes put away. Callum was just about to assume the proper position in front of Mr. Meyers when the man looked up and said,
"You look totally wasted, Callum. Why don't you just pull up a chair and we'll go over the photo shoot and then you can head on out."
“Thank you, Sir," Callum replied gratefully. He pulled over a chair from the wall and settled into it, scarcely even aware that he was still completely naked.
Callum was slowly coming to the point where it seemed totally natural to be naked in front of Mr. Meyers.
John Meyers reviewed the entire shoot in surprising detail. He gave Callum a number of suggestions on posing techniques but generally praised the boy's performance.
"I think you're a natural, Callum. You have a certain raw masculinity that I think will really come through in the photographs and I'm sure hiring agents will quickly pick up on that. Of course, we still have some significant work to do fine-tuning elements of your body and training you to instinctively follow a photographer's directions without even the slightest hesitation. But, all in all, I must stay I'm quite pleased with your work today."
"Thank you, Sir," Callum replied, almost beaming. It was so good to hear that Mr. Meyers had been pleased with his efforts. It made Callum want to try even harder to please the man.
"You have a right to be proud of yourself, Callum" Mr. Meyers assured the boy as he smiled at him.
"But I also want you to keep focused and not forget that being a physique model is hard work and requires a lot of dedication. For example: From now on you should plan on spending at least half-an-hour every morning just shaving your body. And I want you to take your time doing it. The last thing in the world you want to do is nick or cut yourself."
"But, Sir," Callum responded. "My body hair doesn't really grow that quickly. I would think that shaving once a week should be enough to keep my body hairless."
"No," Mr. Meyers immediately demurred.
"I want you to shave your entire body every day, regardless of how quickly you think your hair grows back. Good grooming is absolutely essential for a model and good grooming is more a product of daily repetition of healthy habits than anything else!”
Meyers didn’t give Callum time to reply as he continued:
“Just like you have to stick to a training regimen to keep your body in perfect shape, you also have to develop grooming habits that simply become second nature to you.”
The Agent ran his hand over Callum’s naked thigh as if he felt the smooth skin of the boy:
“If you shave every day you won't run the risk of getting a last-minute call to show up for a job interview with stubble all over your body. You'll always be smooth and hairless – ready to go."
"Similarly, Callum," Mr. Meyers continued,
"I think we need to take steps to bring your excessive testosterone under control. From now on, whenever you get an erection I want you to take care of it immediately. If you're at home, just go to your bedroom and whack it off, if you're in public, just find a restroom and take care of it there. But we have to bring it under control or it will limit your utility in a number of shoots. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," Callum murmured, embarrassed that they were once again discussing his boner problems. He looked down into his groin, and saw how right Mr. Meyers was, since his dick was hard as steel, poking into his navel and coating his six pack abs with pre-cum.
"Fine," Mr. Meyers responded. "So why don't you take care of it right now while we're finishing our discussion and waiting for Troy to bring in some of the proofs."
Immediately, Callum flushed a bright crimson.
"You want me to jack off right now, while I'm sitting here talking to you?"
"Isn't that what I just said, Callum?" Mr. Meyers replied with not only a little exasperation in his voice. "We obviously need to keep your balls completely drained to keep you from plumping up at awkward moments. So just take your cock in your hand and milk it now. Okay?"
"Yes, Sir," Callum grudgingly agreed. He reached down and grabbed his hard fuck-stick. It throbbed underneath his touch. Despite himself, Callum groaned in pleasure as he began to stroke his rigid tool.
Callum was concentrating on masturbating himself when he heard Mr. Meyers call his name.
"Callum," the Agent repeated.
"Yes, Sir," The young man answered, looking up at his Boss.
"I assume you can jerk off without having to look at your cock."
"Yes, Sir," Callum admitted, dumbfounded. He felt like back at school, while standing at the blackboard to explain a mathematical problem and failing miserably.
"Fine," Mr. Meyers replied. "Then we'll continue our discussion while you take care of business."
"Yes, Sir," Callum managed to squeak out. For the next ten minutes Callum sat there, trying to follow the conversation with his manager, while he continued to work on his hard prick. It was so humiliating to be sitting there, stroking himself off, his entire body clearly within Mr. Meyers range of vision, and at the same time to be trying to keep a discussion going on what exercises he should use to maximize development of his quads.
He could only imagine the perverted picture he presented to the man, but Mr. Meyers appeared totally unfazed by the situation.
Callum could hear himself beginning to breathe heavily as he neared his orgasm. He was just at the point of shooting off when he heard the door opening behind him. Troy walked into the room just as Callum began pumping out another massive load, moaning, leaning back in the chair.
The model gave a picture of a mindless sex-object, unable to control his own body.
"What a horny little bitch!" he heard Troy exclaim as the first spurt landed right on Callum's face.
In the throes of his orgasm, Callum couldn't even try to make a retort. Instead, he just writhed uncontrollably in the chair as his hot sperm continued to shoot from his erupting cock.
Without thinking, he licked his lips, and tasted the sweet and salty taste of his own cum, blushing even deeper as he saw Troy smirk.
If anything, this second orgasm in Mr. Meyers' office was greater than his first. By the time Callum's cock had finished disgorging his ball-seed, Callum was almost covered with fresh cum.
"Aren't you a fucking stallion?" Callum heard Troy comment.
He looked up to see that Troy was standing right next to him, his eyes taking in Callum's cum-covered body, his lips twisted in a gleeful smirk. Callum was about to say something when he heard Mr. Meyers speak up.
"That will be enough, Troy," he said. He held out his hand. "Let me see the proofs while you get a wet washcloth to clean Callum up again."
"Yes, Sir," Troy immediately responded, yanking his gaze from Callum to his employer. He passed over a packet of proofs. Mr. Meyers took them and began looking at them closely. Without even looking up he repeated: "Don't just stand there, Troy. Get the damp cloth and clean Callum up!"
"Yes, Sir," Troy responded, turning to give Callum an exaggerated leer and then heading back to the bathroom. Totally spent, having just shot his second load of the afternoon, Callum simply sat there awaiting Troy's return.
Mr. Meyers was still reviewing the proofs, checking off a few, when Troy came back and immediately began wiping Callum off. The model wasn't surprised that Troy took the opportunity to feel him up again – the little faggot obviously wasn't going to miss the opportunity to grope and fondle him if he could get away with it.
Much to Callum’s surprise Troy stuck a hand between the model’s legs and actually drove the tip of a finger up Callum's butt-hole, diddling him like he was some cheap whore.
Callum grabbed Troy's wrist with his own hand and yanked the finger out of his hole. He just glared at Mr. Meyers secretary. The fucker actually had the nerve to bat his eyes at the model.
Callum promised himself that one day he was going to make this faggot pay. But, mindful that Mr. Meyers was sitting right there, Callum simply gave Troy a soft push away.
"I'm clean," Callum declared.
Hearing Callum speak, Mr. Meyers looked up.
"Good," he said. "Then why don't you come over here and you can help me pick out some photos for you comp cards."
Callum immediately got up, moved carefully around Troy to avoid giving him another opportunity to grope him, and positioned himself next to Mr. Meyers as he pored over the proof sheets. He glared at Troy on the other side of the desk, still angry that the fucking faggot had the audacity to finger Callum like he was a cheap slut – some boy-whore he'd rented for the night.
But as he glanced down at the photos that Mr. Meyers was reviewing, his anger was immediately shunted aside. 'Damn,' he thought, 'I look great in these photos.'
As John Meyers rapidly worked his way through sheet after sheet of proofs, Callum had to admit that Troy had taken some really good pictures of him. Mr. Meyers had been right – the little faggot really was a good photographer. Mr. Meyers had been right about something else. Shaving his body really did make Callum's musculature pop out. He reached out and touched one of the photos on the sheet Mr. Meyers was reviewing.
"I really look good in this photo," he opined.
Mr. Meyers actually laughed. "You do look good, Callum," he agreed, still chuckling, "but I hardly think this shot would be appropriate on one of your comp cards."
"Why not?" Callum asked, not really understanding what was going on.
"Well," his Agent explained, "First off, you're basically naked in the photo – the only thing you're wearing is the Good Devil Man-Lifter, which is just a strap around your waist connected to a tight spandex strap around your scrotum. And you're completely hard – hell you can even see pre-cum on your cock-head."
The naive new model was definitely confused. "But you and Troy both said that the company probably wouldn't mind the fact that I was hard – seeing how the item they're selling is clearly aimed at a.... specific type of market."
Callum wanted to say that the target market was definitely fags but he knew he couldn't say that – certainly not with Troy in the room.
"That's why you said it was okay to shoot these photos – even though I had a hard-on."
"And that's true," Mr. Meyers responded.
"This photo would be perfect in an advertisement for the Man-Lifter – it'd be just what they wanted. But that doesn't mean it would be suitable for one of your comp cards."
Mr. Meyers looked up at Callum intently.
"You do understand what a comp card is, don't you Callum?"
"Ah, yes, sir," Callum replied, not having a clue – he figured it must be some type of photographic portfolio, after all they were looking at pictures, but he didn't want Mr. Meyers to think he was completely ignorant about modeling.
Of course, just by the way he answered, it was perfectly obvious to John Meyers that Callum had no idea what they were talking about. This scarcely surprised the man. It had been clear in their first meeting that Callum knew virtually nothing about the business of modeling – which was a major reason that the Agent had been so anxious to sign Callum.
For a few seconds, Meyers toyed with the idea of just leaving Callum completely ignorant but he ultimately decided that this was a piece of real information that he could safely provide the boy with, so he filled him in on composite cards and how they were an essential tool for any model.
"So," he concluded, "I'll be sending these cards to numerous agents and photographers around the city and you'll be leaving them after castings and meetings. If the comp card included a picture of you fully naked with an erect penis they might get the wrong idea about you and we wouldn't want that, would we, Callum?"
Meyers knew he would send the explicit pictures out, but only to a carefully selected range of men.
"No, Sir," Callum quickly agreed. "Thank you, Sir." Once again, Callum was grateful that he had Mr. Meyers looking out for him. He knew that this was a man he could really trust to shape his career.
They spent a few more minutes reviewing the proofs and then Mr. Meyers leaned back in his chair.
"I think we've got more than enough to make a number of different comp cards, specifically designed for underwear, swimsuit, and physique castings. We'll send the photos we've selected to the printer and we should have them ready to go within a week."
Mr. Meyers looked up at Callum who was still standing right next to him and smiled.
"You did real well today, Callum. Really well. I'm proud of you," he added.
Even Callum was surprised by the surge of pride that ran through him as listened to Mr. Meyers praise. It had been years since he'd heard anything other than sarcastic criticism from authority figures in his life. His father never had a decent word to say about him. Hearing Mr. Meyers tell him that the man was proud of him made Callum all the more determined to please his new manager. Callum was going to do everything he could to keep Mr. Meyers' good opinion of him.
"Thank you, sir," he replied, the slight quaver in his voice betraying the effect that Mr. Meyers' comments had had on him.
"You're welcome, Callum," the man said. Then he looked at his watch.
"It's getting late. Why don't you get dressed? You put in a real day's work here so if you want to skip your afternoon workout, I'll understand it."
"No, sir," Callum responded, eager to show his commitment to his new career. "I'll head right over to the gym when I leave."
Callum walked over to his clothes, picked up his slacks and then stepped into them and pulled them up. He had been naked for so long it actually felt a little strange to be wearing clothes again. He reached down, picked up his Polo shirt and put that on. He was putting on his socks and stepping into his loafers when Mr. Meyers spoke again.
"You know, Callum, there's no need to dress up when you're just coming to the office. Like I told you, we're all family here. In the future, just a tank-top, running shorts, and a pair of sandals or even flip-flops would be more than sufficient. In fact, considering how warm it's been lately, there's no need to even wear a tank-top. Just running shorts would be fine."
"I don't know, sir," the boy responded. "I'd feel kind of funny coming here just wearing a pair of running shorts."
"See," Mr. Meyers immediately replied with force, "that's your excessive modesty making an appearance. We've really got to work on that. From now on, Callum, I want you to consider running shorts and flip-flops as your basic attire. Obviously, when you're going to a casting call a more formal attire would be appropriate, but when you're here or just running around town, going to the gym, or lounging at home running shorts are more than adequate. You've got a great body, Callum, and you have to learn to show it off."
The model saw his Agent think for a second, before Meyers came up with an idea.
“You know, I guess you should get out of the bus one or two stops earlier from now on. Walk a few blocks, and the sun and the attention you get will be good for you!”
"Yes, Sir!" Callum reluctantly agreed. He knew that Mr. Meyers only had his best interests in mind, but Callum was also sure that he was going to feel pretty uncomfortable going to the gym and walking around town wearing only a skimpy pair of nylon shorts, especially since his body was now completely hairless. But, if Mr. Meyers thought that was what he should do, Callum would just have to learn to live with it.
Hearing Callum's assent made John Meyers smile. He was making good progress in his program to re-orientate the sexy young man's basic makeup. There was still a long way to go, but he no longer had any doubt that it was only a matter of time before he had the boy exactly where he wanted him – naked, in his bed, the Fucktoy's legs spread wide-apart, his ankles next to his ears, getting boned for the fifth time in a seemingly endless night of debauchery.
Meyers could feel his own dick hardening up as he contemplated that picture in his mind. Aloud, he said, "So why don't you just take that shirt off now, Callum, and we can start in on confronting your insecurities?"
"Yes, Sir!" Callum sighed as he reached down, grabbed the bottom of the shirt and peeled it off his torso. He crumpled it up and jammed it between his back and the slacks he was wearing.
Bare chested, he was turning to leave when he heard Mr. Meyers tell Troy to go get Callum another two dozen bottles of the energy supplement.
“We don't want Callum running out," he told his secretary.
Callum followed Troy out of Mr. Meyers office. As he turned back to close the door behind him, Mr. Meyers had one last piece of instruction.
"Don't forget to jerk off whenever you get erect. Your excessive testosterone is something else we have to get under control!"
"Yes, sir," Callum agreed as he closed the door, suddenly aware that despite the two massive loads he had popped while he'd been in Mr. Meyers office his cock was already beginning to harden up again inside his pants.
'Damn it,' he thought. 'I'm going to have to whack off before I even start working out.'
That was going to be hard to do unnoticed at the gym with all those faggots hanging around the locker room, but Callum was committed to his career now.
He would just have to do it inside a cubicle in the restrooms.
'Who cares what those fucking assholes think anyway,' he told himself. 'They're just a bunch of losers.'
He watched Troy opening the door to a storage room to get his fresh energy drink, and the secretary gave him the two six packs with his usual little charade of licking his lips and batting his eyes.
“There you go, big guy! Since you work so hard, I gave you the extra power protein shake to drink before your workouts” and he placed two more six packs of the stuff next to the first dozen.
“And this stuff is to fill up your minerals after you have had an exhausting workout-session!”
Callum looked at the cans, and Troy gave him some kind of an extra explanation, in an exasperated tone:
“Red is to heat you up, BEFORE, and blue to cool you down, AFTER workout, right? You can drink the stuff I gave you already for breakfast till its gone! “
Callum looked at Troy and timidly answered:
“Yes, uhm.… Troy…. Thank you! My only problem is to get all those cans home.... I have to ride the bus with them! “
Troy smirked at him and handed him a thin backpack:
“There you go, Big Guy! I'm sure you can handle it!”
With that he turned around and walked up to the Boss' office. Callum had no choice but to pack up as good as he could, and leave.
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