By Dylan (Illustrated by Dylan)
Email: boy18cute@yahoo.com
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dylan_Boy18cute

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The Hollywood Agency Book -5-

Chapter 18: "Trying out for the part"

Kerry woke up as he heard his lover Taylor answer a phone call.

"Yes, Sir. I understand. I'll be there at 2:00 pm."

"Who was that, Tay?" Kerry asked from the bed, turning over just in time to see the other model putting the phone down on the night-stand.

"Meyers," the dark-haired boy answered. "He wants me at the agency at 2:00 pm today."

"Fuck," Kerry snorted, sitting up. "You'd think between me and Troy he'd be getting enough action. He screwed me three times yesterday."

"That fucker can never get enough boy pussy," Taylor responded as he turned to face the redhead. "And you know I'm on call whenever he gets the urge so I won't be surprised when he bends me over sometime today if he gets the opportunity, but it's not my fuck-hole he's interested in this afternoon. At least not primarily. It's Callum's."

"What did you just say?" Kerry exclaimed in real surprise. "He wants you to fuck Callum?"

"Fat chance," Taylor responded with a laugh. "He's not going to let anyone near that boy's virgin pussy until he smashes that cherry to pieces. No, Callum's not about to lose his cherry today. Today, that asshole's going to be given a crash-course in cock sucking and you're looking at one of his teachers."

Kerry couldn't keep the smile off his face. He felt his dick grow hard, still hidden by the covers.

"Shit," he grinned. "I'd pay money to see that fucker down on his knees sucking dick."

"Well, you're sure to get the opportunity," Taylor assured his lover. "You know it's only a matter of time before it'll be posted on the website. The whole world's going to see our favorite homophobe swallowing dick – and lots of it. Meyers told me Jacks and Cary, the other huge black guy, are going to be there, too."

"Whew," Kerry whistled. "Meyers certainly not starting him off with the small stuff. Jackson must be packing close to ten inches."

"Cary's even bigger," Taylor informed the redhead. "His dick isn't as thick as Jack's but it's at least a full inch longer. I'm going to be Mr. Shorty at this picnic."

"Yeah. Right," Kerry snickered, taking a long leer at the eight and a half-inch throbber jutting out from Taylor's groin. "Some Mr. Shorty!"

His mind wandered as he recalled what he knew about Cary. The tall and muscular boy had played football, but an injury had placed him on the bench for several games before his team had sorted him out. He had worked hard, ran more miles than any other teammate, lifted heavier weights, and did all his coach wanted, but in vain. He had never been put back on the team, as he was just too dumb to be a really good player, as coach always said.

The hard work had resulted in a body like a Greek God, though. Everyone just marveled over his muscles, his meaty pecs, his eight pack abs and his solid legs. His arms were huge, his shoulders wide, his ass looked like two melons carved out of one massive piece of marble, and his dick was another masterpiece, carefully formed by Mother Nature.

It measured spectacular 12 inches in length and 9 inches in girth. Even Mr. Meyers thought it was a little out of proportion, but it got hard as steel and worked perfectly, and added to the boys almost godlike sex appeal.

Kerry refocused his gaze on Taylor's face and saw a sudden burst of desire that mirrored what he was feeling.

"Well, if Mr. Shorty isn't too afraid of wearing himself out, I think I could show him a good time before he heads off to his picnic."

With that, Kerry turned on to his side, exposing his already well-fucked ass to Taylor's hungry eyes.

"Oh," Taylor muttered, his voice thickening up, "I think Mr. Shorty can manage that. In fact,"

he continued, as he slid into place behind Kerry and wedged his rigid cock against the boy's already dripping rosette, "I'm sure of it." With that, he thrust his hips forward, burying his leaking fuck-stick all the way up Kerry's hole where it had spent most of the previous night.

"Oh, yeah, Tay," Kerry groaned in pleasure. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard. As hard as you're going to fuck Callum's mouth later. Fuck the shit out of me."

"You got it baby," Taylor grunted.

Within just seconds they were going at it, Taylor ramming his dick into Kerry's hole while Kerry thrust his ass backwards trying to get every last inch of Taylor's boy-buster inside of him, all thought of Callum forgotten as they reveled in the coupling of two hot young studs in heat. The two of them kept going at it until Taylor just barely had enough time to get showered and dressed and make it to JM Modeling Agency by 2:00 pm.

Jackson and Cary were already sitting there in the waiting room when he walked through the door. Taylor nodded to them and then at Troy behind his desk.

"Where's the asshole?" he asked. "In with the Boss?"

"He's not here, yet," Troy answered, his face showing the pleasurable anticipation he was obviously feeling. "But don't worry. He's on his way."

Taylor grabbed the seat next to Jackson and sat down. He'd only seen Callum once before and that had been in passing. However, from all that he had heard about the boy from Kerry, he knew he was really going to enjoy what was going to happen that afternoon. He didn't even mind that he wasn't going to be paid for it. After all, there were times you did things which were so enjoyable that just doing them was payment enough. Taylor had a feeling that today was going to be one of those times.

It was 2:15 pm when Callum signed in at the lobby desk, his tan overshadowed by the deep scarlet of his embarrassment. He didn't know what was worse – that he was holding his erection trainer in his left hand for everyone to see or that the entire front panel of his trousers was darkened by a spreading cum stain.

The guard at the desk had made a point of noticing both and had all but spit at him in disgust.

Either way, though, Callum knew that this wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that he had totally screwed up his audition with Sam Walensky and now he had to go upstairs and face Mr. Meyers.

It wasn't his fault though. That fat fucker had wanted Callum to suck his cock. Sure, Mr. Meyers had warned him that Walensky was a faggot and he'd made it pretty clear that, as an untried model, it would be in Callum's interest to accommodate him.

That's just about what Callum had done. When Walensky had told him to strip so he could see Callum's body, something Mr. Meyers had told Callum he was almost certain to do, the model hadn't hesitated. He'd peeled off his polo shirt, stepped out of his loafers and the lowered and removed his tan slacks.

Meyers had advised him that this would be a more appropriate clothing for his interview than the running shorts and flip-flops he normally wore, adding some excitement as the removing of his clothes would be a little tease to the perverted booking agent. Mr. Meyers had told Callum that he might have to endure some lewd language and maybe even some groping, and Callum steeled himself for the ordeal as good as he could.

He'd even kept his cool when Walensky laughed when he saw the erection trainer Callum was wearing. That was when the trouble began.

Walensky had walked up to him and run his hand up and down Callum's torso, praising the boy for his athletic physique and complimenting him on his tan.

Then, letting his hand move lower until it was actually grasping the trainer, he remarked that it was too bad he wasn't able to see Callum's penis in its natural state.

Mr. Meyers, obviously having dealt many times with this pervert before, had warned Callum that Walensky would probably make that type of comment.

'Actually,' Mr. Meyers had gone on to say, 'it isn't that unreasonable a request. After all, he's interviewing you for a swimsuit photo-spread and how your cock would look when it was only covered by a piece of thin spandex or Lycra is certainly a relevant consideration.'

Because he'd recognized that this was a distinct possibility, he'd given Callum the key to the trainer's padlock and told him to give it to Walensky if the situation warranted it. So Callum had told the man he'd had the key in his pocket of his pants if Mr. Walensky wanted to see Callum's cock unobstructed by its plastic sheathing.

Of course he did.

Because of the way the padlock was situated it was easier for Walensky to unlock it, so Callum gave him the key. Once the lock was removed and Walensky had begun to slide the plastic device off Callum's penis, he was distressed to note that his cock was literally throbbing in anticipation.

On his way over to Walensky's offices he had felt the all-too familiar stirrings of sexual arousal but he had chalked it up to the understandable nervousness he felt at the prospect of this interview.

Now as his cock, finally freed from the confines of his trainer, immediately straightened out into an aching and already leaking boner, Callum realized that, at the worst possible moment, his erection problem had re-appeared.

Walensky took a few steps back and just stared at the hard tube of flesh jutting proudly straight up from Callum's muscled groin. Then, slowly, he raised his head until he was looking straight into Callum's blushing face. The hungry desire in the man's eyes was unmistakable.

Callum's palpable embarrassment increased exponentially.

"Well, Callum," Walensky observed, "you certainly have big muscles – all over. But look…” he pointed at a collage of photos on the wall…. “all those guys look as hot as you, some even better”

"Yes, Sir," Callum replied in a quavering voice. He looked at the pictures and recognized several of the models. Some of them were quite influential, some real supermodels, but all of them had been here, in this office, naked, hard, and evidently mere toys for men like Mr. Meyers and Mr. Walensky

He was used to standing naked while he sported wood in Mr. Meyers' office, but this was much different. Walensky was virtually a total stranger and he was standing just a few feet from him, ogling Callum's nude body and rigid man-meat. The model looked at the pictures on the wall once again, before he looked back at Mr. Walensky.

Walensky was making no pretense of even trying to hide his sexual interest in the boy. Callum had never felt so vulnerable – or so totally exposed.

Walensky seemed to enjoy Callum's obvious embarrassment. He slowly circled the boy, his eyes once again locked onto the hard cock, visibly leaking pre-cum.

"Impressive," he remarked. "Very impressive, but I hope you realize, Callum," he continued as he stopped in front of the boy: "I'm not casting a porn shoot. Mr. Meyers told me about your excessive testosterone production and your erection problem but he assured me that it was under control. Looking at you right now, though, that doesn't seem to be the case."

"It is sir," Callum stammered. "At least it was until today. I don't know what's wrong. Maybe it was the excitement of this interview that got to me."

Callum found it excruciatingly humiliating to be discussing his erection problem with this man, especially while he was standing in front of him, naked, his cock as hard as a slab of iron.

"I'm sure it's only a temporary set-back," he added.

“That may be, but who can say," Mr. Walensky responded. "Anyway, though," he continued, smiling for the first time in the interview, "it was nice of you to suggest that your arousal was the result of you being in close proximity to me. That was very sweet."

Callum was totally taken aback by Walensky's implicit suggestion that Callum's sexual excitement was somehow related to an attraction he felt for the man. Callum was not a fucking fairy and the idea that he could ever be turned on by any man, much less a man as physically repulsive as Walensky, was grossly insulting.

The old Callum would have punched him out right then and there. However, thanks to all of Mr. Meyers' efforts, Callum was able to restrain himself.

Meyers had helped Callum to see that the opinions of other people didn't really matter – the only thing that was important was what Callum thought about himself.

The worst thing he could do was to allow other people's opinions to deflect him from his goal of becoming a world famous male model. Mr. Meyers had made it clear that while Walensky was a low-life pervert – not in those words, of course – the man could have a major impact on Callum's future career. Regardless of how Callum really felt about him, it was definitely in his interest to cultivate the man.

In the end, Callum swallowed his anger, pasted a smile on his face, and simply nodded his head in acknowledgment.

Walensky nodded back and went on.

"While I'm willing to take your word that your present – shall we say, excited – condition is only a temporary problem, it does leave me in a quandary. I won't lie to you, Callum, I like to hire models who have the equipment to truly fill out a snug swimsuit. I have a number of swimsuits here that I intended to have all the auditioning models try on to see how they'd look during the shoot.”

He gave Callum a lust filled glance, considering his next words.

“Given the market at which the present campaign is aimed, it's necessary that the model's penis be in a flaccid rather than an erect state. I'm afraid that in your present 'condition' I couldn't get an accurate read of how you'd actually look during the photo-shoot. To be honest with you, I'm afraid that's going to adversely impact your chances of getting the job."

"Sir," Callum anxiously intervened. "I could come back, say tomorrow, after I have my problem under control."

"Unfortunately, Callum," Walensky replied, "that wouldn't be possible. I have a full schedule of interviews set up. In fact, to be honest, I worked you in as a special favor to Mr. Meyers who represents a number of the models we presently have under assignment. I'm a busy man. I just don't have the time to schedule you for a second audition. Sorry."

Walensky sat down to make a point. The audition seemed to be over.

Callum could feel himself becoming frantic. He couldn't believe he was going to lose out on this opportunity because of his over-active gonads – not after all the efforts he and Mr. Meyers had taken to bring that problem under control. Why, oh why did it have to resurface today of all days? There had to be a way to salvage the situation, there just had to be. He had an idea.

"Maybe...maybe I could go to the bathroom and take care of my 'condition' and then come back and try on the swimsuits," he suggested.

Walensky seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment but then shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry. That's just not feasible. The only bathroom on this floor is at the other end of the building and I couldn't have you walking down there – certainly not in your present state."

"Well...well, I could jack off here...in your office,"

Callum blurted out. Hearing himself, the boy could scarcely believe his own ears. He was volunteering to masturbate in front of another guy and not just any guy. Callum was proposing to jack himself off in front of a virtual stranger who he knew to be a faggot and who was obviously attracted to him.

If he hadn't heard himself suggest it, he wouldn't have believed he'd actually said it. What had he been thinking? Had he pissed Mr. Walensky off by even making the suggestion?

Fortunately, when he looked at the hiring agent, the man did not seem particularly offended. His response, however, was not favorable.

"I'm sorry, Callum. I can appreciate how much you obviously want this job – and that's certainly a point in your favor. But, just looking at the state of your arousal" - and at this point, much to Callum's continued embarrassment, Walensky stared at Callum's blood-engorged cock - "it's obvious you're going to shoot off a massive load of boy-cream. It'd spray all over the office and I have a full line-up of interviewees coming after you. God only knows what they'd think if they saw globs of your cum on the carpet."

Walensky's response to Callum's desperate last proposal left the boy devastated. He had demeaned himself by offering to publicly masturbate and even that hadn't been good enough to save the situation. Tears of frustration started to well up in his eyes.

Watching Callum as he tried to keep from crying, Sam Walensky could see why John Meyers was so big on this one. The kid had a striking face and an absolutely gorgeous body but the real killer was the way he could project such abject vulnerability from behind a macho front.

Sam Walensky could feel his own juices churning just looking at the kid. He was going to love fucking the boy's beautiful ass but, while Meyers had promised him a free go at it, that was going to have to wait. Right now, he had a role to play, one he'd played a number of times before.

"I'm sorry, Callum. I really am," he soothed the boy. "Still, I really don't see any other alternative but to terminate this interview. Unless..."

Here, the man paused portentously. He watched amused as Callum's eyes opened wide in renewed hope.

"No, no," he hesitated, dragging it out. "You probably be insulted if I even suggested it."

"Suggested what, Sir?" Callum intervened when Walensky stopped again. "What?"

Making himself look like he was embarrassed for even raising the possibility, Walensky sprang it on him.

"Well, I could suck you off and then you could try on the swimwear. That way I wouldn't have to worry about your scuzz getting all over my office."

Callum just stood there stunned, staring into space, weighing his response. Part of him wanted to punch the man in the face for even suggesting such a thing. Callum had pretty much made his peace with getting sucked off at the agency, but there the faggots who sucked him off – Troy and occasionally Kerry – were part of the agency family. They were co-workers one could say.

This was essentially a stranger offering to suck him off and Callum didn't like the implication that he might be the kind of dude who would take kindly to such a suggestion from another male.

On the other hand, Walensky had clearly been reluctant to even broach the possibility which at least indicated that he didn't necessary view Callum as a guy who was used to getting blown by fags. Then, too, Callum was pretty much in a bind. It was clearly either let the guy suck him off or kiss his hiring prospects for this job goodbye.

What finally tilted the scales towards letting the old fart blow him was Callum's recollection of just how good Troy and Kerry were at gobbling dick. They had given Callum the best blow jobs of his life and if, as Callum suspected, giving good head was just a natural part of being a faggot, Callum figured he'd enjoy having Walensky go down on him too.

'What the fuck,' he told himself, 'I want the job. I'm horny as shit. Fags give great head. I'd be stupid not to let the old fairy blow me.'

Callum turned to face the hiring agent. "That would be okay with me, Mr. Walensky, if you could do that."

Walensky made no verbal response. Instead, he just walked up in front of Callum, dropped to his knees, leaned forward and swallowed all hard nine inches down in one fell swoop.

Callum couldn't help groaning in sudden pleasure.

It was obvious to Callum that Walensky was no neophyte in the dick-sucking department. The man swallowed his nine-incher without the slightest hitch and he was almost as good as Kerry in working his throat on Callum's boner.

He discovered early on, however, not to look down at his cock. While Callum had enjoyed watching both Kerry and Troy work on his dick, they were sexy young good-looking guys, in great shape. Walensky was none of those things and watching the old faggot mouth his meat made Callum feel like a whore – a guy who'd let other guys use his body just to get ahead.

It didn't help that Callum realized that this was exactly what he was doing. The man had evidently learned the trade and was a master in the art of cock-sucking. Callum just stared straight ahead, imagining it was some chick sucking him off.

That apparently did the trick. In less than five minutes, Callum was geysering a massive load into Walensky's mouth. His cum just seemed to shoot out of his inflamed cock in an almost continuous stream.

Callum had to give the old fuck credit, he kept working Callum's prick, gulping down a stream of boy-juice that even Callum had to admit seemed endless. The force of the orgasm left Callum staggering on his feet.

Despite the massive eruption of cum, it took less than three minutes for Callum to feel his dick re-hardening. Walensky was nothing if not a dedicated dick-sucker. He stayed on Callum's cock and without missing a beat began working on his new erection.

It took a little longer, but Callum was still impressed by how quickly Walensky was able to tease a second orgasm from the boy that actually rivaled the first. And this time, Callum's dick finally began to soften and Walensky let it fall from his mouth.

Licking his lips to capture a stray globule of boy-seed, Walensky stood up.

"Well, let's get down to business," he said, as if nothing untoward had just happened between them.

For the next twenty minutes, Callum modeled a variety of differing swimming attire. They varied in cut and color but were remarkably consistent in one aspect – all of them were skin tight and every one clearly outlined Callum's now soft cock was still impressively thick and meaty, lying quiescent across the upper part of his left thigh.

Walensky took pictures of Callum in every suit he tried on, informing the boy that while the photos were nothing like the quality that would be taken during the shoot, they would be good enough to help him and the photographer select the model that they wanted to hire.

Things were going well until Walensky picked up an item that could at best be described as a minimalist thong. Callum was in the process of peeling off a bright fuchsia speedo when he felt a distinct tingling in his cock. In a mere seconds, as Callum watched in consternation, his cock re-hardened. Timidly he waited to see how the fat agent would react.

He turned to face Walensky, expecting the man to be upset at Callum's renewed erection but the man seemed completely unfazed. He didn't say a word, but simply dropped back onto the floor, took Callum's joy stick back into his mouth and sucked yet another load out of the boy.

By the time Callum had tried on the last of the suits, he was feeling pretty good about his prospects. Walensky had not only complimented him frequently on how well he filled out the swimwear but had also twice mentioned that Callum seemed exceptionally photogenic, explaining that, while a lot of guys who looked good in real life just didn't look good in photographs, that obviously wasn't Callum's problem.

Callum started to believe that Walensky's praise boded well for his chances of getting the modeling assignment.

He had just stripped off the last item, a mesh swimsuit that was most notable for the way it thrust his entire pouch forward and left literally nothing to the imagination, and was about to retrieve his clothing when he heard Walensky behind him ask if Callum could help him out with something.

"Sure thing, Mr. Walensky,"

Callum had replied as he turned around, only to discover that Walensky had undone his fly and was flashing a short but thick cock in obvious erection.

"Then get on your knees and blow me, boy," Walensky instructed.

Maybe if Callum's ego hadn't been so inflated by the praise Walensky had been tossing his way, or maybe if Callum had some inkling of what Walensky expected ahead of time, or maybe if Callum had merely taken a few seconds to think out his response, things might have gone differently.

As it was, however, Callum blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Fuck no! I'm not a fucking faggot. I don't suck dick."

Callum watched Walensky's face as the man's initial shock quickly changed into fury.

"Sorry, Mr. Walensky," Callum offered lamely, realizing that his reflexive response had obviously offended the man, but Walensky was clearly not mollified by his apology.

"Get dressed and get your ass out of here," he ordered. "We're done here."

"Sir.." Callum tried to continue, but Walensky cut him off. "Get out! Now!" he shouted.

Totally flustered, Callum's movements got frantic and disjointed and his sweating hands trembled like a leaf.

He tried to put the erection trainer on his cock but when he began sliding the sleeve over his penis the damn thing started to harden again. He was still fiddling with it, trying to calm down, when Walensky walked over to where Callum's clothes had been folded on the floor, scooped them up, walked to the door, opened it and threw them into the corridor outside.

"Now get the fuck out of my office!"

Walensky screamed, grabbing Callum by the arm and roughly pulling him towards the open door.

The next thing Callum knew he was out in the corridor as the door was violently slammed in his face. The boy was soo unprepared for this sudden turn of events that he stood there motionless, basically in shock.

He had no idea how long he stood there, trying to process what had just happened. Then the boy was jarred back into his present reality when he heard a snicker and turned just as a young guy was edging around him.

"Dude, you need to put some clothes on. The cops are cracking down on whores around here."

With a start, Callum realized that he was out in a public corridor, stark naked and flashing a full bone. Instinctively, his hands went to cover his junk, but that merely elicited another snicker from the guy as he walked by and gave Callum a nice smack on the butt.

With a surprised grunt, blushing furiously, Callum dropped the erection trainer and frantically stepped into his slacks. In a flash, he pulled the polo shirt over his head and slid his feet into his loafers. Callum had just a sufficient presence of mind to remember to pick up the trainer before he literally ran from the building.

His brain was in such turmoil that he scarcely remembered driving back to the agency. And it wasn't until he had parked the car and walked half a block towards the office that he realized that his now throbbing boner had apparently been leaking pre-cum ever since he'd wedged it back into his pants.

His pre-ejaculate had soaked through the entire front of his khaki's, forming a deep dark stain in his light sand colored trousers. Feeling his face again emanating the heat of a deep blush, Callum didn't see how the day could get any worse. He pulled his Polo shirt out and tried to cover up as good as possible, but in vain.

As he rode the elevator up to agency's offices, Callum was frantically using the time to rehearse how he would explain what had happened to Mr. Meyers.

He was sure that his Agent would be shocked at how Mr. Walensky had so lewdly propositioned him. Meyers would have to agree that the boy had no choice but to refuse the man's advances.

However, Callum also knew that Mr. Meyers had held high expectations for the meeting with Mr. Walensky, so he was certain that the Agent was going to be really disappointed as to learn how it turned out.

When he entered the agency's reception room, Callum was surprised to see that there were three other guys already waiting to see Mr. Meyers.

A quick glance at them led Callum to conclude that they must all be prospective models – all of them were good-looking dudes and they were all clearly in good shape. He thought it was strange that all three of them wore pretty much the same attire – tank tops and shorts.

It was almost as if they'd coordinated their outfits ahead of time to show off their impressive physiques. Callum knew he could easily rival each of them in the looks, but he was too intimidated by their evident self-assurance to say anything.

He quickly pushed these musings aside as he remembered the reason why he was here, and turned to address Troy.

"I'd like to...." Callum began, as he approached the front desk, but Troy cut him off peremptorily.

"You're to go straight in," Troy coldly informed Callum, his eyes glaring at the model. "Mr. Meyers is waiting for you."

Callum was disconcerted by the assistant's abrupt manner and could feel the eyes of everyone in the room following him as he walked over to the door to Mr. Meyers' office, knocked softly, and entered the room.

As he closed the door behind him, all three of the boys in the chairs broke into broad grins.

"This is going to be fun," Jackson said to Taylor.

Taylor, remembering all the shit that Callum had shoveled in Kerry's direction, nodded his head. This was going to be fun. Though not for Callum, that was for sure. The boy had looked scared like a deer in the headlight, but he still had a gorgeous body and such a full pair of red lips, just waiting to be parted by a fat cock, waiting to be fucked, calling to be abused.

It only took a minute before they could clearly hear Meyers through the door. "You said what?" he was asking in a loud, demanding voice. A minute later, the intercom buzzed. They could hear Meyers' voice order Troy to "Send Taylor, Jackson and Cary in here."

Troy looked up from his desk. "You're on, boys," he smirked. "See you soon."

All three of the models stood up and moved towards the door. Jackson opened it and went in first, Taylor following and Cary right behind him. The sight that greeted them, while not unexpected, was still pretty exciting.

Callum was standing in front of them facing Meyers' desk, stark naked, his legs spread far apart, his fingers locked behind his head, elbows parallel to his torso. It was the position they'd all assumed too many times to count, but none of them realized how sexy and exposing it really was.

Until they saw someone else in it.

Taylor couldn't help but inhale sharply. Even from the rear, he was impressed by Callum's physique. Kerry had told him the boy was really hot, but, apparently, he needed to be unclothed to really show it. His back and legs were well-muscled and clearly defined, but it was the boy's ass that was definitely exceptional.

Taylor had thought that Kerry had the prettiest ass he'd ever seen, but Callum could give him a run for his money. With a body and ass like that, the clients were going to be lined up to fuck the boy and Taylor couldn't blame them. He could feel himself getting hard just thinking about it.

As previously instructed, the three of them lined up a few feet behind Callum and waited for Meyers to get the party started. After only a few thrilling moments of hesitation, that's just what he did.

"Boys," he began "I had originally asked you to come by the office to discuss your up-coming joint shoot next week. Well, that's all moot right now, thanks to Callum here. He had an audition with Sam Walensky at noon, and during the course of it he decided to speak out and call Sam a "fucking faggot."

"What?" the three of them responded, virtually in unison, each one trying to outdo the others in mock surprise and outrage.

"Sir, that's not really what happened..." Callum began to argue before he was cut-off by Meyers.

"I thought I told you not to speak unless I asked you a question. Didn't I?"

"Yes, Sir," the boy meekly responded, physically cringing.

"So shut up until I tell you to speak," Meyers snarled, staring daggers at the boy, who seemed to wilt even more in front of him.

"As I was saying," the fuming Agent began addressing the three of the models again, but then he paused.

"You know what?" he asked rhetorically. "You're so anxious to speak, Callum, why don't you tell them what happened at the interview. Go ahead. Turn around and tell them what you did, how you put their photo-shoot in jeopardy, how you managed to cost each of them $3,000. Go ahead. Turn around and tell them, I'm sick of looking at your face anyway."

Slowly, Callum turned, obviously reluctant to face the three other models. Instinctively, he lowered his hands as he did so. Immediately, Meyers was on him. His outburst showed his emotions:

"Did I tell you to break position, boy? Get those hands behind your neck. Now."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Callum mumbled, his embarrassment and mortification so palpable you could have reached out and touched it.

He stood there in front of the three other models, his head down, his body full exposed, a long strand of pre-cum dangling from his erect cock, his entire body a vivid crimson.

Despite himself, Taylor was impressed of the spectacular display, and he could tell that the other two models were too. Callum had a hell of a body, a face to go with it, and a fat juicy cock that was even more than you expected.

Although his face was now a mask of humiliation and embarrassment, there was still a hint of the over-weaning arrogance which Kerry had described to Taylor, enough to make him want to fuck the hell out of this boy, to show Callum who was really boss. Taylor was certain that a lot of the Agency's customers would feel exactly the same way.

John Meyers had a real money-maker on his hands and he obviously knew it.

Seeing Callum like this, Taylor could understand why Kerry was both attracted and repelled by the hunky straight model at the same time.

Meyers gave his boys enough time to take in Callum's luscious body before he spoke again. Now that Callum had his back to him, Meyers face lost its angry cast but his voice still resonated with anger, as he ordered Callum to begin. He allowed himself to wink at the other three models to show them phase two of today's game plan had now begun.

"You were so anxious to speak, boy, so speak. Tell them what you did."

"Well," Callum began in an almost whisper, staring at the floor, "everything was..."

"Look at them," Meyers interrupted sharply: "Look at them and tell them right to their faces how you screwed them all out of a job."

Clearly fighting back tears, Callum raised his head and looked at the other three boys who were staring back at him in undisguised anger. Mr. Meyers' orders had been clear, their roles laid out perfectly.

Callum couldn't remember having ever felt so miserable and embarrassed in his life as he began recounting what had happened at Walensky's office.

"So you see," he ended when the tale was done, basically pleading for understanding from the three of them, "I didn't call Mr. Walensky 'a fucking faggot.' I didn't. I just said that I wasn't 'a fucking faggot.'"

"Are you retarded?" Taylor exploded, pleased to note the impact his question had on Callum. "You let a guy blow you three times in an hour and then when you're asked to reciprocate you tell him you don't do that because you're not a 'fucking faggot.' Shit, you don't think you called him a 'fucking faggot?' You've got to be retarded if you believe that."

"Anyway, you asshole," Jackson interrupted. "why didn't you just blow him?" The well muscled black man did his best to emphasize the evident. He looked like an archetypal male, a superbly muscled thug ready to charge, like a dangerous predator, a criminal ready to punch Callum's face to a pulp, just barely containing his anger since Mr. Meyers was present.

"Because I'm not an f... a gay. I'm not gay," Callum responded in a defensive stutter, stunned at the depth of the contempt directed towards him.

"Who gives a fuck whether you're gay not?" Cary asked, joining the fray. He had been told to join Jackson in the role play, also displaying a dangerous, angry young gang member ready for the kill.

"Mr. Walensky didn't ask you if you were gay. He asked you to suck him off after he'd already done the same for you – three times. And instead of just doing it, you use the fucking 'f' word on him."

"How could I blow him when I'm not gay?" Callum complained.

"You are fucking retarded," Taylor growled, shaking his head in disgust, spitting out the words.

"How do you blow him? You drop down on your knees, take his dick in your mouth and suck on it till he shoots down your throat. That's how you blow him."

"But how could I do that," Callum argued again, "I'm not gay."

Next to him, Taylor felt Jackson take a step forward, looking every inch like he would turn into a black Hulk anytime soon.

"Excuse me," he said, the menace clear in his voice. "Are you saying that I'm gay because I've sucked Walensky's dick? Do you think I'm 'a fucking faggot,' too?" He pulled up his shoulders and balled his fists.

Callum stared at the big muscled black man standing in front of him, obviously just bristling for a fight. The man was intimidating, there was no getting around that, but Callum could scarcely believe what he'd just heard.

This guy, this macho dude, had just admitted sucking Walensky off and was now accusing Callum of calling him a fucking faggot, too.

Callum just gaped at Jackson. "You sucked Walensky?" he asked, clearly finding the man's confession hard to believe.

"Yeah, I've sucked Walensky's cock," Jackson replied, inching closer to Callum. "Every time I've gone in for an interview." "So have I," Taylor volunteered.

"Me, too," Cary added.

Jackson took a quick look on either side of him at his fellow models, nodding slightly, and turned back to glare at Callum.

"So what are you saying, boy?" he demanded. "That we're all gay, that we're all fucking faggots?"

The total confusion on Callum's face was almost laughable. Taylor couldn't believe how much fun he was having mind-fucking this asshole. Of course, it probably wasn't as much fun as fucking him for real, though. That would come soon enough. Taylor managed to keep all traces of the humor he felt under wraps as he stared at the boy, wrecking havoc not only on Callum's self-esteem but undermining his most basic concepts of masculinity.

"Let me lay it out for you boy," Taylor began, the sarcasm heavy in his voice, "so even a retard like you can understand it. We're all straight. As straight as you are – presumably, -"

This last word was spoken with just enough inflection to make it clear that Taylor wasn't so sure just how masculine Callum really was. Without pausing, however, Taylor continued,

"- but we are also professional models. We do what we have to do to make it in this business. And if that means we have to suck some dude's dick to get a booking, we drop to our knees and do it. No drama. No 'Oh, no, Mr. Walensky! I'm not that type of boy' crap. We suck his cock and we do a damn good job of it."

Taylor took a deep breath to sort his feelings. Callum was sure the model was fighting with the urge to punch him in the face, just like the other two, even more intimidating, colleagues, but he went on:

"Now I don't particularly give a sow's fart if you're not willing to do that. That's fine with me. It's one less model I have to worry about as real competition for a modeling gig. But when you go in for an interview and come across as some yokel homophobe, that reflects upon the whole agency – that reflects upon me. And when you manage to offend the most important hiring agent in this town enough for him to seriously consider canceling all hiring arrangements with my agency, then you and me – we have real problems."

"I'm sorry," Callum stammered. "I didn't mean to create any problems for anybody and I certainly didn't mean to offend Mr. Walensky."

Jackson gave Callum a withering look and simply said, "Whatever," clearly dismissing the boy as unworthy of any further attention. He turned his attention away from the naked, sweating, trembling young man in front of the Bosses' desk:

"How bad is it, sir," he asked, speaking over Callum's head, clearly addressing Mr. Meyers.

Callum had no idea the play was perfectly rehearsed.

"It's bad, boys," Meyers replied, putting a note of concern in his voice. "I'm not going to lie to you. It looks really bad."

There was a significant pause and then he spoke again, this time in a tone more of resignation than anger. "Callum, turn around and face me."

Recognizing the change of tone, Callum was literally shaking as he turned back to face Mr. Meyers. After his exchange with the other models, it was clear that his relationship with the agency was in dire straits.

"Sir," he began, forgetting Mr. Meyers' orders not to speak unless asked a question,

"I am so sorry. I know I screwed up. Really bad. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I've already apologized but I'll go back there and do it again. I'll beg him to forgive me. Please, sir, give me a chance to make this right."

"Callum," Mr. Meyers replied in a much softer voice, "you've already tried to apologize and, having spoken with Sam, I can tell you that a simple apology isn't going to cut it."

Just from the tenor of the discussion, Callum knew what was coming – Mr. Meyers was going to terminate his representation of Callum. The boy's biggest fear was about to become reality. All Callum's efforts over the last month and a half were about to be flushed down the toilet because he'd allowed himself to slip up at a crucial moment.

Callum was desperate to salvage the situation. He realized that he really was willing to do anything to avoid being let go – even sucking Mr. Walensky's dick, if that's what it came down to.

Swallowing hard, his voice just a whisper, he said it. "I'll do it, sir. I'll suck his dick."

Behind him he heard one of the boys, mutter,

"Oh, yeah. Now, he'll do it. Now, after he's fucked up the whole agency, now he's willing to suck him off."

Callum tried to ignore the comment as he kept his attention riveted on Mr. Meyers' face. The man was clearly mulling it over. As the Agent's face resolved itself into a mask of sorrowful resignation, Callum realized that even his offer to suck Mr. Walensky's cock wasn't going to be enough.

"I'm sorry, Callum," he said. "I really am. But the nub of the problem from Sam's perspective isn't that you refused to suck his cock. He could have accepted that. You almost certainly wouldn't have gotten the job, but that would have been the end of the matter.”

Meyers stared at Callum:

“When you, in effect, called him 'a fucking faggot,' you came across not just as some straight guy who was unwilling to go the extra mile to get a job, but as a raging homophobe. That's the real issue now."

Meyers again paused for added effect, just a well rehearsed split second, just long enough to make Callum's heart stop, it seemed. The boy held his breath, knowing he would get the death sentence.

"I've warned you in the past about using that kind of language and tried to get you to purge it from your vocabulary. It's just this type of situation I was concerned with. I know you didn't intend to personally insult Sam, that the phrase 'fucking faggot' just slipped out, but when it did you irrevocably branded yourself in Sam's eyes as a homophobe and, knowing Sam's past as I do, that's one trait he'll never overlook.”

“Since he now sees you that way, if I continue to represent you, he'll see me as fostering the same prejudice. In fact, it's already made him wonder whether the other boys I represent harbor similar feelings – which is why he's reconsidering hiring Jackson, Cary and Taylor for the up-coming photo shoot."

Meyers again took a deep breath, long enough to deepen the impact on Callum.

"Sure, I could send you back over there and you could offer to suck his dick. That wouldn't fix things though because the real problem isn't that you refused to suck his dick, it's that your own words have indelibly branded you as someone who despises gays. He'd see your offer to suck his cock not as an indication that your real feelings have changed but simply as the attempt by a homophobe to get back into his good graces. If anything, he'd be more insulted by the offer because he'd see it as implicitly suggesting that he could be hoodwinked by anyone who was willing to suck his cock. He would guess you think hes easy to manipulate."

Callum's face was as white as a sheet of paper as he waited for the next words of the Agencies' Boss.

He waited to hear Mr. Meyers' decision about the termination of his contract, his career, basically his life, trembling, sweating, feeling sick.

He would have to return to his old room in his Stepdads house, facing the shame and humiliation he knew too well.

"I'm sorry, Callum," Mr. Meyers concluded, "but I don't see any alternative but to terminate our professional relationship."

Even though he had been sure he would hear this, the words devastated Callum. While he managed to stifle a sob, he could feel the tears form in his eyes. Breaking position he quickly brought his hands to his face. The last thing he wanted was to have the other models see him crying.

As Callum was trying to handle the news of his dismissal, Meyers glanced at Taylor. Taylor acknowledged the signal and took a small step forward. The next phase of Callum's destruction was about to begin.

"Does this mean that our photo shoot is going forward, sir?"

"I wish I could say that it did," Meyers replied. "Being totally honest with you, based on my discussion with Sam, I have my doubts. The incident with Callum seems to have really shaken Sam's faith in this Agency. I really wouldn't be surprised if he cut all ties with us."

"Shit," Jackson exclaimed. Callum, even though he was still sobbing, could feel the tension rise.

Taylor paused for a moment as if he was wracking his brain for suggestions. Then, as Meyers had instructed, he made his proposal.

"There might be one way for the agency to recover, sir. It'd even help out Callum, too, though to be honest I really don't give a shit about him."

"Well, go ahead," Meyers urged him to speak, following the playbook all but Callum knew about, when Taylor paused.

Taylor went on, delivering his lines in an Oscar-winning performance.

"I think we're all agreed that the real problem now is that Walensky thinks that Callum is a homophobe – which he well could be, for all I know. So what we need to do is convince Walensky that, despite what Callum said, he's not."

"Yes, Taylor," Meyers agreed with a hint of impatience. "I think we all agree with that. The question is how do you propose to do that?"

"By having Callum tell Walensky that he's gay, too. He'd explain that he's been struggling with an attraction to other men his entire life, even though he was raised to think that such an attraction was sick and perverted. Callum could tell him that when he lashed out at Walensky it was only a defensive mechanism to keep Walensky from suspecting the truth – that Callum was just as gay as he was.

Then Callum could say that, as a result of his confrontation with Walensky, he's been forced to finally face what he is and he's decided to come out of the closet and start living his life as a gay man and he wants to thank Walensky for helping him make that decision. If he believed Callum, that could well get Callum off the hook and, by extension, the agency as well."

Taylor paused, breathing deep after he delivered his speech. Callum should have time to digest what he just had heard, even though the men in the room ignored him, talked about the future as if he was just a figure in a game of chess, ready to be pushed around on the board, or sacrificed to win the match.

After a significant pause, Meyers responded.

"You know, Taylor, that just might work. It's the type of argument that would appeal to Sam and it might actually change his anger towards Callum into a sort of sympathy for his situation. The first question we have to ask is whether Callum is willing to do it."

Callum had been standing there, pretty much ignored by anyone in the room, as Taylor talked.

At first, he hadn't really listened to what the other boy was saying, being too much consumed by his own dejection. When Taylor had mentioned that he'd thought of a way that might salvage Callum's career as a model, he had begun following what Taylor was saying with a glimmer of renewed hope.

Needless to say, he was shocked when Taylor ultimately proposed that Callum present himself as a closeted gay man. Callum had been prepared to suck Mr. Walensky's cock in order to retrieve the situation, but Taylor's proposal took that to a whole other level.

Just the thought of telling someone else that he was physically attracted to another man – that he, Callum, was a perverted fag – was enough to make him almost physically ill.

He almost hoped that Mr. Meyers would reject Taylor's proposal out-of-hand so he wouldn't have to face the choice of either being let go by the agency or pretending he was a fairy.

However, Mr. Meyers thought there was a real chance that Taylor's plan might work so now it was up to Callum to choose. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him as he weighed his options. If he said no he was gone, that was clear. Mr. Meyers had already expressed his intent to end their relationship.

Callum realized that he could only make his Agent rethink by agreeing to Taylor's plan.

Until the new possibility had presented itself, Callum had believed that nothing could come close to outweighing the burden he'd placed on his relationship with Mr. Meyers.

With the alternative being presented, the need to out himself as a faggot, his chances were back.

In the end, though, Callum reasoned that one was just make-believe and the other was real.

Walensky might believe Callum was gay – hell, Walensky had to believe it for Taylor's plan to work – but Callum would know otherwise. He had to treat it just the way he treated those losers at the gym that mocked him because he shaved his crotch and wore an erection trainer. They didn't know shit and their opinions just didn't matter.

On the other hand, his professional relationship with JM Modeling Agency was real. It was his lifeline to a real career, to making something out of himself.

He looked at Mr. Meyers and with all the confidence he could muster he replied,

"Yes, sir. I'm willing to do it."

He was pleased to see Mr. Meyers smile slightly when he heard Callum's response. He knew the man always had his best interests at heart and seeing the pleasure he took in hearing Callum agree to Taylor's proposal just proved it. Mr. Meyers was obviously happy that Callum was willing to play the faggot and stay with the agency.

However, Callum heard the snorts of his fellow models and realized they did not believe in his motives, and what Mr. Meyers next said, did give Callum a shock as he listened to the full revelation of the thoughts his Agent had on the matter:

"I think that's the right choice, Callum," Meyers started off, "both for your career and for the Agency. I want to make absolutely sure you understand what you're getting into. Once you present yourself as gay to Mr. Walensky, there's no going back. It can't be gay today, straight tomorrow. You'll have to act gay in front of him from now on. That means you'll be expected to comment upon good-looking males and express the desire to have sex with them, that you socialize with gay guys, that you go to gay clubs and act like you're having a good time."

Meyers paused briefly, like he was reconsidering his words and collect his thoughts. His face even showed a slight hint of sorrow for his newest model.

“It won't be just in front of Mr. Walensky's. The modeling industry is pretty small and in-bred. Word will spread quickly that you're gay. So you'll have to act as if you're gay on all your assignments. That means no dating women and definitely no shacking up with one."

"Are you saying I can never have sex with a woman again," Callum asked, his shock obvious.

"I'm not saying never again. Just not for awhile. Not until everyone in the business accepts that you're gay. Not for at least the next two years. After that, you might be able to play the 'bi' card and say you're just interested in trying straight sex out. Certainly not for a couple of years."

"Fuck," Callum exhaled. The other models had to concentrate to keep a straight face while listening to the exchange.

"So, Callum, do you still want to do it?" Mr. Meyers asked.

"I'll tell you one thing: If you can carry it off, it'll show not merely that you are completely devoted to your modeling career, but also that you have the makings of a great actor. I think that acting is something you should have as a possible ultimate career goal and playing the role of a gay model in your day-to-day life would certainly be a good preparation for immersing yourself in different character roles in movies."

Callum probably would have agreed to go for it anyway, but Mr. Meyers' last remarks about it serving as preparation for an acting career cinched it. "I'll do it, sir."

"Good boy," Mr. Meyers replied, favoring him with a full smile for the first time that day.

Now Jackson spoke up:

"It's all well and good that Callum, here, is willing to try to pass himself off as a closeted gay dude. But what if he fucks it up? What if he lets another 'fucking faggot' slip out? What if he bites Walensky's dick while he's sucking him? We might end up worse off than we would if we just canned the asshole now and took our chances."

He finished his little diatribe facing Taylor, knowing that's where the response would come from.

"Well, first off, Jacks," Taylor began, relaxing now that the tough part was over and the good times were about to begin,

"Once Callum presents himself as gay if he slips up and uses the 'f' word it won't be that big a deal. Among themselves, gay guys use it a lot and don't take offense, just like black dudes can throw around the 'n' word without generating anywhere near the response that a white guy would get."

"Don't give me that look, Jacks," Taylor smiled when he saw his friend raising an eyebrow. "You know I'm right. I've heard you and Cary jawing back and forth and I couldn't believe the shit that came out of both of your mouths. It's just the way it is. When one gay guy calls another gay guy a 'faggot,' it just doesn't have near the emotional punch that it does when it's a straight dude using the word. That's all I'm saying."

"However," he added, now facing Meyers and enjoying the moment as he moved in for the kill, "Jacks does have a good point about him biting off Walensky's dick. For a straight guy, it takes a lot of work learning how to suck cock. It's not as easy as it looks. It takes a lot of practice for a straight guy to get good at it. Gay guys, on the other hand, seem to somehow have a natural knack for it, they pick it up real fast."

While Taylor was pretty sure that he was delivering a load of bull, he wasn't totally certain. After all, Kerry had picked up sucking cock almost overnight and he was great at it. There might actually be something to it. Whether or not it was true that gay guys were naturally-born cocksuckers wasn't particularly important right now. What was important was the fact Callum believed it was true.

"Now, Callum, here, I would guess, has never sucked a dick before in his life?"

Taylor continued, halting momentarily to give Callum a chance to respond.

"No," Callum affirmed with vigor, upset by even the suggestion that he'd sucked any dick in the past.

"I didn't think so, judging by your reaction to Walensky's request, but that could be a problem. If you make a total mess of blowing Walensky that could undermine the entire scheme."

Taylor turned back to Meyers. He, clear to everyone but Callum, stayed in his role, giving a flawless performance, while Callum's world broke into pieces.

"Jacks was right when he said we could end up worse off if Callum fucks this up. We need to know whether he can carry it off. Callum has to be a good enough cocksucker that he could pass as a gay guy to another gay guy, even if we take into consideration that he will be admitting that he's new to the gay scene.”

Taylor paused if he was thinking, but went on quickly:

“He doesn't need to be perfect, but he's got to at least be decent. I think we need to find out how good a cocksucker Callum is and whether he can get up to speed in any reasonable time-frame before you think about contacting Walensky, Sir." he ended, looking at Mr. Meyers.

"I'm looking around, Tay," Jackson picked up the ball,

"and I don't see any gay guys who could let us know whether Callum's sucking technique is good enough to pass for gay. Do you?"

"No," Taylor admitted, turning to answer his buddy.

"I don't. Not in here. But there is a gay dude sitting right outside this office and I suggest we make use of his talents."

This, of course, was a total lie. Everyone in the Agency knew that Cary was gay as a goose. The big, burly intimidating muscular Black was an avid cocksucker and loved to be fucked as much as he loved to feel a tight ass give way for his fat black twelve inch dick. Everyone, that is, except Callum.

However, Meyers wanted Troy in on this, so Cary's sexual orientation was straight as far as Callum was concerned.

Finished, Taylor looked back at Meyers and waited for him to make the next move. A moment later, the Agent reached down and pressed the intercom button.

"Troy, could you come in here?"

A minute later Troy stood passively in front of everyone while Mr. Meyers explained why he had been called into the office. His face did not give away that he had followed the whole exchange on the hidden cams and was delighted to see how well the plan had worked.

When Mr. Meyers asked him if he was willing to assess Callum's cock sucking skills, however, he replied with enthusiasm: "Yes, Sir."

When he turned around and stared at Callum, the model could see that, though Troy's face held a noncommittal expression, there was a discernible glint in his eyes.

Still, Callum was stunned when Troy ordered,

"On your knees, cocksucker," in a gruff and commanding voice as he unzipped his fly and fished out his cock. His good-size meat was already noticeably hardening, while he displayed the same businesslike demeanor again that he had shown when doing the photo-shoot with Callum.

As the trembling model dropped to the floor, he was struck how, in a matter of seconds, Troy's attitude had totally changed. Over the last few weeks, Callum had noticed a definite waning of the flamboyancy that had been such a hallmark of the assistant when Callum first joined the Agency.

Anyhow, the contrast between that fluttering queen and the domineering stud who now towered over him was startling.

There was something about the way Troy had taken charge of the proceedings that unsettled the model. He couldn't quite put his finger on what he was feeling, but an objective observer would probably call it the stirrings of fear.

Callum was beginning to feel afraid of Troy and, as he was soon to discover, such fears were fully justified.

Troy stared at him for a moment and growled, "Well, what are you waiting for boy? Suck my dick."

Callum bent slightly forward at the waist and reached out a hand to grab Troy's dick. Troy's hand flashed in the air, striking Callum's left cheek with a loud retort.

"No fingers, boy. When you suck cock you use your mouth, not your hands."

Callum stared up at Troy stunned. The slap had really hurt. He nodded in acknowledgment and was leaning forward to take the assistant's cock in his mouth when Troy delivered another stinging blow.

"Boy," Troy snarled, "when you're on your knees blowing a man's cock and he gives you an order, you respond 'Yes, Sir,' do you understand?"

His anger surging inside of him, it took all of Callum's self-control to refrain from jumping to his feet and pummeling the young man he was about to service. At the last moment he managed to stop himself. It had occurred to Callum that Troy was merely treating him the same way Callum had treated Troy in the past, the way he would treat any cocksucker.

Callum reminded himself that's what he was in the process of becoming: A cocksucker.

This was what Callum had decided he wanted to become – what he had to become if he wanted to keep his career going. He might as well get used to it as soon as he could. If he was going to play the faggot cocksucker, Callum knew he had to make it believable.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up at Troy and respond, "Yes, Sir."

"That's better, boy," Troy smirked. "Now get to work on that dick."

Callum leaned forward again and opened his mouth wide. The moment he got his lips around Troy's cock-head, the smirking young man thrust his hips forward. Callum gagged and instinctively his hands rose to Troy's groin. Another quick slap echoed through the office.

"God damn it, Callum," Troy exclaimed, "keep those god-damned hands down."

"I'm sorry," Callum replied, cringing inside at the realization that he was on his knees, apologizing to this fruit-cake, "but they just seem to mind of their own."

Troy took a step back and turned towards Mr. Meyers.

“Sir," he asked politely, as if the idea just crossed his mind, "do you have any rope? I think maybe if I tie Callum's hands behind his back he'll get used to sucking dick with just his mouth, like he should do."

"No, Troy. I don't," his father replied, playing his role without bating an eye, "but I do have something else that might work."

He reached down, opened a drawer in his desk and fumbled around for a few seconds. "How about these?" he asked, suppressing a grin. He was holding a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs.

"Those will do fine, sir," Troy answered not even bothering to hide his amusement.

"Hands behind your back, boy," Troy ordered as he turned back to face the model kneeling on the floor. He walked directly in front of Callum and leaned over him to grab his wrists. He jerked them up forcefully, forcing a little squeal of pain from the model, as Meyers stepped in and added a little twist to the scene.

“Callum, hands on your head as if you assume the position” he just said, and Callum lifted his hands and folded them on the back of his head.

Troy just smirked to the watching models and tightly encased both wrists in the cuffs, firmly restraining Callum's arms behind his head. During this entire procedure, Troy's hard cock was pressed roughly against Callum's face and Troy made sure to rub it back and forth, knowing how much that would humiliate the model.

Troy stood back and looked down at the boy. Having his hands cuffed like this really made Callum's chest pop. He looked really sexy kneeling on the floor. Vulnerable and exposed, too. It was time for Troy to begin paying Callum back for all the shit he'd dumped on Troy over the past six weeks, and Troy was sure that Callum was going to learn the truth of that old maxim: Payback is a bitch.

From his position on the floor, Callum could see the obvious pleasure on Troy's face and, with his arms pinioned behind his back, Callum realized that he was completely at the boy's mercy.

He was glad that Mr. Meyers was in the room. Callum was sure Meyers would keep Troy under a tight rein. He couldn't see the three other models, though, that had taken seats in the sofa and already jerked their dicks, waiting for their turns. They were fully aware of the hidden cameras and had no qualms of making the scenery just a little extra spicy for the audience online.

They knew this would boost their own value, as well.

Troy gave his hard cock, which was now leaking a steady stream of pre, a few quick strokes. Then, to Callum's surprise, rather than forcing Callum to immediately begin servicing it, Troy turned back to Mr. Meyers.

"Sir," the assistant began, "this might get a little messy. Do you mind if I take off my clothes."

"No, of course not, Troy," Mr. Meyers replied. "Make yourself comfortable. After all, you're doing all of us a favor, here, helping Callum learn how to suck dick. So by all means make yourself comfortable."

Moments later, Troy once again stood in front of the kneeling Callum, now completely naked.

Seeing the unmistakably masculine physique looming in front of him, Callum was forced to really confront the reality of what he was doing. He was sucking off another dude. He was going to let another guy stick his hard cock in Callum's mouth and work it like a cunt until the dude poured his fuck-seed down Callum's throat.

The enormity of what he was doing, of how he was debasing himself, struck Callum with the force of another smash to his face. Before he could even reconsider the choice he'd made, Troy stepped forward and grabbed the hair on top of Callum's head, painfully forcing Callum to look up.

"Open wide, boy," Troy sneered. "Time to start sucking dick." With that he rammed his cock into Callum's mouth and gave the boy his first feel of dick in his throat. Callum really didn't like it.

Twenty minutes later Callum sank back on his heels, his mouth, now held open by a spider-gag, dripping saliva in virtual syncopation with the drip of cum down his throat from the load of seed Troy had shot off in his mouth.

Callum's left cheek still burned from all the slaps it had received during the first part of the blow job, when Callum just couldn't seem to keep his teeth off Troy's cock. That problem, at least, had been solved when Troy had stuck the spider-gag in Callum's mouth. The gag was uncomfortable and Callum hated the way he couldn't keep from continuously drooling. Now that the blowjob was over, Callum wanted Troy to remove the gag, but when he tried to ask him to do that, the words came out all slurred.

Callum's frustration at not being able to make himself understood just added to the humiliation he felt now that he'd completed his first blow-job.

Above him, he could hear Troy and Mr. Meyers discussing his performance. Despite all his efforts, Callum was not getting rave reviews.

"I'm sorry, sir," Troy was saying. "If you asked for my honest opinion as a gay man and I have to tell you that Callum's technique wasn't simply bad – it was terrible. It was, possibly, the worst blow job I've ever had. There's no way, right now, that Mr. Walensky would ever be fooled into thinking Callum was gay. No fucking way."

"Okay," Mr. Meyers replied, the disappointment obvious in his voice.

"I accept your judgment, Troy. What I'm asking you is whether you think Callum could improve his technique sufficiently to pass for gay."

"Over time, maybe." Troy answered. "Fuck, he can only get better, since he is so bad right now. In the short time-frame we're faced with, I don't see how. It's going to take a lot of practice and with different-sized dicks, too, before there's any hope that Callum would prove even passable."

"Sir, if I could make a suggestion," Callum heard Taylor intervene. He had almost forgotten that the other models were still in the room, had watched his pitiful attempts, had heard the evaluation Troy had given, and surly their hope sank to get the modeling gigs from Sam Walensky back ever again.

"I'm willing to let Callum have a go at my cock and I'd bet Jacks and Cary would be, too. After all, our jobs are on the line here. I don't think that any of us have any pressing business this afternoon anyway. We could have Callum suck us off one after the other. We could compress a lot of dick-sucking into one intensive session. Troy says he needs a lot more experience; well, we can provide him with just what he needs."

"I'm in, Sir," Callum heard Cary add, "if you think it's a good idea."

"Me, too, I guess," Jackson added, reluctantly. "I'm not anxious to do this asshole any favors, but it is my job on the line, too, like Tay said, so I'll let the boy practice on my dick. I hope I can get it up for the job.”

The last remark gave Callum an added sting, added another humiliation to this ordeal, since his own dick was painfully hard, while the other, straight models had to force themselves to get hard enough to let him suck their dicks.

He had not seen the three guys sit on the sofa smirking, while they all three slowly jerked their impressive hardons, edging for the last thirty minutes.

There was a slight pause as Mr. Meyers considered their offer.

For his part, Callum's mind was reeling. It had been hard enough agreeing to suck that faggot Troy. Now, if Mr. Meyers concurred, he'd have to suck off three other models. Plus these guys were straight.

Somehow, sucking off other straight dudes seemed even more demeaning than going down on a faggot. It made Callum feel more like a faggot, himself.

With a gag in his mouth, Callum wasn't even able to voice his concerns. Instead, he had to just kneel there, drooling all over himself, as he heard Mr. Meyers agree to Taylor's proposal.

"I think that's a really good idea, Taylor," the man opined, "and I'm grateful to all of you for your willingness to sacrifice your afternoon just to help Callum out. The only thing I'd suggest is that you all might want to strip down, too. We've all seen what a mess Callum can make when he's sucking dick."

"Yes, Sir," they all agreed.

Callum could hear them stripping off their clothes as he wearily righted himself on his knees.

Mr. Meyers had always warned him that being a model was hard work, but, until now, Callum had never realized how much hard work it would be.

The next thing he knew, the three models were lining up in front of him, with Taylor positioning himself as the first to have a go at Callum's mouth. Looking at the model's cock, Callum was shocked to see that it was almost as big as his own monster. Glancing quickly to the other two models, Callum was horrified to see that Taylor's dick was the smallest of the three.

All three of them had already jerked their dicks to full hardness so as not to waste precious time, and it did little to reduce Callum's stress to see them soo eager to help him out.

It was a living nightmare. He couldn't imagine taking any of them down his throat. However, before he could even consider what was happening, Taylor grabbed his hair, pulled Callum's head forward, and rammed his big cock halfway down Callum's throat. Callum's training as a cocksucker had begun in earnest.

As it turned out, Callum could not even imagine how it would feel to swallow such massive cocks down his throat, but by the time the afternoon ended, Callum had experienced those sensations multiple times and he was sure his throat would never recover.

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