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The Hollywood Agency Book -7-
Chapter 24: "A Star in the making"
"I had my fucking prick buried down his gullet and his eyes were just fixed on mine, pleading with me to let up on him, the tears bubbling out as he struggled to breathe. My Dad was deep-dicking the little whore at the same time and every time he plunged back on in, the kid's throat would spasm around my cock. It felt so fucking incredible. I couldn't help myself – I shot two fucking massive loads straight into his stomach. And when it was over, the bitch actually thanked me for feeding him my cock. What a wuss!"
Hearing Troy gloat about how he'd raped Callum's mouth, Kerry could understand why Troy was so despised by all of the models. He really was a sadist. Sax quickly got up and excused himself and it looked liked Taylor might be planning on doing the same when Meyers forestalled him.
"You're up, Taylor," he announced with a grim smile.
"And you can follow your boyfriend," he added looking at Kerry, removing any lingering doubt that Meyers, too, was aware of their new relationship.
"I expect both of you to give him a good work-out."
"Don't disappoint me, like Cary," he added almost threateningly as the two of them headed towards the sling.
Taylor was leading the way, though he could feel Kerry close behind him. For the first time since he'd arrived earlier that afternoon, the dark-haired model was beginning to have some qualms. He knew Callum was a real asshole and had treated Kerry like he was a piece of shit. The boy certainly deserved to be punished. But at what point did righteous punishment morph into simple revenge?
He'd listened to Meyers laying out his plans for Callum, and even he'd been surprised by the calculated cruelty of their design. It was obvious that there was something very personal animating Meyers' treatment of his newest model.
At the time, Taylor had suppressed any misgivings he might have had by telling himself that it was no more than Callum deserved.
Now, hearing Troy brag about the way he and his Father had abused the boy had made his skin crawl.
Taylor had always viewed Meyers' son as a warning of how twisted a person could become if he gave unfettered rein to his baser impulses. Taylor had been banged frequently enough by Troy over the years to know that Troy fucked another guy like he was a thing – a mere conduit for getting off, something to be used for his pleasure and then discarded.
And he had always hated that. Merely the possibility that he was becoming something like Troy was enough to worry Taylor.
Taylor's queasiness wasn't eased when he positioned himself in between Callum's out-stretched legs. Callum looked up, glassy-eyed, not even focusing on the face of the boy about to fuck him. Instead, in a flat monotone, like some mindless automaton uncomprehendingly repeating programmed lines, he begged Taylor to fuck him.
"Please fuck me, Sir. Fuck my pussy," he pleaded, maybe not even knowing what he said.
Something clicked in Taylor’s head and he decided that he was going to fuck Callum – and fuck him hard. He really didn't have much choice in the matter. But when he fucked Callum he was going to keep reminding himself that the boy beneath him was a person – an asshole to be sure, but still a person.
Not an object. Not a thing. Another person, just like him. Taylor wasn't Troy, and didn't intend to become him, either. Fortified by this resolve, Taylor began thrusting his big cock in and out of the boy's well greased up hole. In no time at all, Callum began responding with the squeals and moans that were the clear signs of a boy getting his pussy reamed out good.
This was all it took to override any second thoughts. It did not take long for Taylor to shoot his first load, and right after he came into the still surprisingly tight hole of the jock in the sling, Kerry mounted up and took Callum for a long, hard ride. By the time he finished, Callum had two more notches in his belt and two more hot loads of man cream leaking out of his pussy.
It was a little after 4:30 pm, Callum estimated, when Mr. Meyers and Troy finally released him from the sling.
His athletic looks were still there, but in his mind he was just a sex-toy. He staggered away from the sling to get a shower and some rest. At least this was what he hoped to get.
Mr. Meyers had sent his other models home about a half-hour earlier and Callum had just been trying to recover from the endless onslaught of hard cock. It had been an unbelievably exhausting weekend so far and there didn't seem to be a single muscle on Callum's body that didn't hurt, though the worst pain was centered in his raw throat and his battered ass-pussy.
His ass had taken a terrific beating since Friday afternoon and Callum didn't know how he'd be able to survive having seven more men go at him non-stop for twelve hours.
It had been rough enough when he'd only had Mr. Meyers and Troy training him. They had taken turns fucking him, one after the other, for most of Friday night and all day Saturday. Mr. Meyers had been right, as he always was. Callum's pussy had loosened up after a couple hours of hard fucking and it hadn't hurt quite so much. Of course, it was still incredibly demeaning and humiliating having another guy fuck him, but Callum had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who had screwed up and it was only fair that he be the one to set things right.
After all, that's what a man does. He takes responsibility for his mistakes and accepts the consequences. Callum had risen to the challenge and showed Mr. Meyers that he was a real man.
He thought back to this weekend's training session. Though it was hard to feel like a real man when his asshole was discharging a continuous stream of man-scuzz, constantly replenished by repeated fuckings, he felt good. A feeling of pride had replaced the felling of humiliation. He knew Mr. Meyers had been proud of him. He told Callum so, many times during the weekend.
Even Troy had been supportive, too, in his own way. Callum had been surprised to discover that Troy lived with Mr. Meyers, but the Boss had explained that Troy was his personal secretary as well as the office receptionist so it made sense that the boy would have his own room at Mr. Meyers house. It was a good thing that he lived in the Boss’ house. When Meyers got too tired to continue fucking Callum, Troy was willing to fill in and keep his training regimen going.
Mr. Meyers liked to lay back and watch Callum pound himself on his assistant's big dick, and Troy had made Callum mount up over and over again during the weekend, always taunting him by saying” Saddle up, Cowboy, let’s play horsey!” when he made Callum sit on his dick and ride it.
To see the athletic blond ride him, sometimes facing him, sometimes turned away, had given Troy an erection that lasted for hours.
Eventually, after God knows how many loads he'd popped up Callum's aching fuck-hole, Troy had admitted that he was impressed by the way Callum seemed to crave cock, the way he wanted to cram every last inch of dick into his pussy.
It made Callum feel good to hear that, since Mr. Meyers had made clear how important it was to give the appearance that he was enjoying himself – after all Callum was supposed to be a faggot – and if he could fool a faggot like Troy into thinking he was having a good time when, in fact, Callum had experienced only a few things in life as painful and demeaning as skewering himself on Troy's hard dick, it was just a sign of all the progress he had made.
So, as he rode the faggot assistant, Callum felt like he was a secret agent on a mission, felt like he was manipulating the enemy to trust him, felt like he would ultimately win and save the day.
All he needed to do was to survive this hellish ordeal, these hours of torture. But he, the well trained footballer, was used to pain and hard work. He would make his coach proud!
Meyers had told Callum that convincing other guys that he loved getting fucked would hone his acting skills and Troy's compliments showed that he was doing just that.
Callum now knew that prospective casting agents would see the films of him getting fucked.
Meyers made sure the model knew the training was filmed. Callum had been filmed before, as his school's coach always filmed workout and practice sessions and discussed them with the team or individual students, and Callum knew the casting Agents would be impressed how dedicated he was to his acting career and just how far he was willing to extend himself to achieve success.
At first, it had rattled Callum a little bit when Mr. Meyers told him that he was being filmed during his training sessions, though. It was different to the videos of his workouts at school. It was bad enough, Callum thought, that he had to submit to being fucked by other dudes.
Knowing that a video record was being made of all these sessions and that total strangers might one day see him getting his pussy reamed out by a well-hung dude's hard dick had really embarrassed him.
Callum had to swallow hard as he realized that most guys seeing that would assume he was a faggot, but Mr. Meyers had reminded him that he couldn't afford to care what ignorant losers thought about him if he wanted to make it big in modeling and acting.
"What's important, Callum," Mr. Meyers reiterated to him, "is what hiring agents and casting agents and those other individuals who can advance your career think about your performance. From what I've seen, they will definitely be impressed."
Meyers, that much was clear, used the words just like his old coach had used them: They encouraged Callum, inspired him to work even harder, reassured him that he walked the right way.
They'd been alone in Mr. Meyers' bed when the man had told him about the filming, the Agent's fat cock still fully embedded in Callum's well-worked hole, the man unflagging in his efforts to help Callum fulfill his potential. It was then that Mr. Meyers had shared the incredible news that he already signed Callum for a starring role in an upcoming movie.
"The film is being produced by one of the leading Hollywood independent producers," Mr. Meyers had explained.
"It's an unusual company called Thug Videos. It's not a general release type studio, rather it aims for more of a niche market. But the market includes many of the major producers and directors in Hollywood. I can't tell you how many major Hollywood stars got their start with Thug Videos."
Meyers knew what type of stars Callum would meet.
Callum was, of course, elated to hear the news. It sounded just like the prospects of getting a scholarship for college, and Meyers sounded just like Callum's coach breaking the news as he gave the exhausted boy a hard massage after a long workout.
Mr. Meyers had warned him though that just landing the part wasn't the only thing. He had to be able to perform too. Again Callum had thought back, and he swore to himself that this time the chance would not go to a waste. Not like last time, as he ducked out, as he ran from the opportunity. He remembered his stupid reaction to his Coaches hand on his ass while the man told him that there might be a few little conditions and requirements.
Callum afterwards was sure he had spoiled it all. After running away, after hastily dressing, while coach almost pleaded to him to rethink, to talk to him, to wait till his head cleared again, he was blindly storming out, faking to be ill for the next few days.
This time, he had sworn to himself, he would not spoil his chances again!
Meyers, not knowing that his model's mind was wandering, just went on:
"The producers at Thug Videos have a well-deserved reputation for being very demanding of their actors. They'll take an actor right up to his limits and then beyond. They're going to work you hard, really hard, but, if you do everything they tell you to do and you perform as well as I know you are capable, I don't have the slightest doubt that the film will be an underground smash hit and you'll be well on your way to becoming a star in this business."
With an upcoming film-shoot in the offing, Callum wasn't surprised that Mr. Meyers really bore down on him during the rest of the weekend.
Callum really appreciated all the dedication the man showed in helping his model to become accustomed to getting fucked. After Callum had decided to go on, and go on hardcore, not wasting his chance this time, he almost insisted his Agent should not spare the rod, figuratively speaking.
Not only Mr. Meyers, but Troy, too. Their dedication to their new model’s future was admirable, and their stamina was truly impressive.
Even when Mr. Meyers wasn't pounding away at Callum's pussy, he never missed an opportunity to advance the jock's training. Callum was particularly impressed by the way Mr. Meyers was able to use one lesson to reinforce another.
Early on, Meyers had told him that it was very important that he learn to refer to his asshole as his 'pussy' or his 'boy twat' or his 'boycunt.'
That was the proper term for a faggot's fuck-hole and, as a faggot, he'd be expected to use it. Of course, Callum wasn't a faggot, but he was trying to pass himself off as one, so he promised to change his vocabulary.
It had been hard at first to break the habit of a lifetime.
Besides, it was really demeaning to refer to his asshole as a 'pussy.' Callum was constantly screwing up and asked Mr. Meyers to 'fuck my asshole' when he should have been asking him to 'fuck my pussy.'
To break him of this habit, Mr. Meyers had decided to introduce Callum to nipple clamps connected to an electric device that Troy would control. Every time Callum failed to use a proper term to describe his male fuck-hole, he would press a button.
Mr. Meyers had already informed Callum that it was important to learn proper behavior, and learn it quick, since the first test was only just around the corner.
Faggots loved to spank each other's asses – which was no news to Callum – but they also liked electrification as a harmless but demanding way to enhance the thrill while having sex, and so Mr. Meyers' plan not only helped Callum get used to routinely referring to his asshole as his 'pussy,' it also helped him to become accustomed to being exposed to sexual practices not common in the Midwest.
It occurred to Callum early on that there was a certain rough justice in being spanked by Troy for failing to refer to his asshole as his 'pussy.' After all, he had delivered the same punishment to Troy when the receptionist had called it a pussy weeks earlier. But as his nipples were electrocuted over and over again and it reached the point where merely touching them was painful, the sense of irony disappeared and was replaced by the all-consuming fear of someone pushing the button again.
Callum did not even realize how much his convulsing body, his cramping muscles, heightened the sexual pleasure for his fucker. Each and every muscle in his body seemed to get a workout, a workout much harder than any set in gym, and soon his mindset changed:
Defensively, Callum not only began calling it his 'pussy,' he began thinking of it as his 'pussy.'
By the end of the evening, when asked what he had between his ass-cheeks, he answered 'my pussy,' 'my cunt,' 'my boy-twat,' or 'my boy-snatch,' without the slightest hesitation.
It had become the way he thought about it. The word 'asshole,' at least in reference to his own body, had been driven out of his vocabulary. When he was given a break by the pool, even when permitted to wear a speedo, he selected the smallest piece he could find and seemed to present his ass with his leaking pussy, ready to be used by any man who wanted him.
All in all, even Callum had to admit that he had made real progress over the weekend. The only fly in the ointment, as it were, was that all the fucking his pussy was taking seemed to aggravate his erection problem.
The more Callum got fucked, the more aroused he seemed to become. And that was really embarrassing. Callum knew he was completely straight. There wasn't any question about that.
But it was hard to reconcile his heterosexuality with the reality that the more he got fucked by Mr. Meyers and Troy, the more Callum felt the overwhelming need to orgasm.
Even worse, much to his dismay, that fact wasn't lost to Troy, who taunted and teased the model.
Callum had been wearing the erection trainer since he'd arrived on Friday afternoon and he'd been leaking steadily since then. Right at the start, Mr. Meyers had insisted that Callum stop wedging toilet paper, which he referred to as Callum's boy-tampon, into his trainer.
A faggot would never be ashamed of a dripping cock, he told Callum, and if it blotted his shorts or panties or any other article of clothing he was wearing a faggot would flaunt it as a sign of his availability, being proud of his virility.
Callum had to remember that all faggots were insatiable whores and Callum had to be sure that he assumed that role to, Mr. Meyers told him. It was for the purpose of helping Callum getting used to whoring around that Mr. Meyers had invited a number of Callum's fellow models over.
Mr. Meyers though seemed to be disappointed that all the homosexual abuse that Callum was enduring seemed to have no effect on dampening his sexual excitement, even if the erection trainer did prevent him from shooting off.
As Mr. Meyers had explained, he had assumed that being fucked and used like a faggot would dampen Callum's sexual ardor since the boy was straight.
In fact it had actually seemed to make it worse. It was a clear indication just how out of control Callum's hormones had become, Meyers told the model, who was devastated. Realizing how he might fail again, not being able to fulfill the most simple conditions to be successful, he himself jumped to the conclusion that that the erection trainer most likely would have to become a permanent part of Callum's attire.
Fortunately for Callum, Mr. Meyers pointed out that a young guy like Callum couldn't go indefinitely without sexual release. He told Callum to shoot off a load, though he warned Callum that he'd only be allowed to cum in circumstances that were painful and demeaning.
As Mr. Meyers explained his thinking, if Callum could be brought to the point where his unconsciousness associated sexual orgasm with discomfort and embarrassment, Callum's over-active sex drive might ultimately be brought under control.
Callum quickly came around to the view that he agreed with this theory, since he trusted in Mr. Meyers experience and good judgment, so he went along with Mr. Meyers plan.
However, while Mr. Meyers was willing to let Callum eventually relieve his bursting balls, he asked him to hold off as long as possible – until the need to get off was simply beyond bearing.
Callum managed to hold out for most of Saturday. Even the hardest fucking, the most intense electrocution of his nipples and, ultimately, his balls, did not make him cum.
However, by Saturday evening he had reached breaking point. He had been reduced to a begging bundle of muscles and spermatic cords, all brawn but no brains, his willpower long defeated.
Finally, Mr. Meyer leaned over and picked up the key to the lock on Callum's erection trainer.
Then he moved on to his back and motioned for Callum to sit on his cock. The boy straddled the man, wincing as the big hard piece of meat once again forced it’s way up his pussy. Callum had expected the man to start fucking him right away but, instead, he called for Troy.
Callum heard Troy get up from the couch were he sat and watched, stroking his own cock, holding the remote control for the electro device that was now installed at Callum's nipples and nuts.
Then Callum felt Troy scrambling on to the bed.
He looked at Mr. Meyers questioningly. Then, to his complete shock and terror, he felt Troy's cock push up against his straining hole, right next to Mr. Meyers'. Before he could even voice an objection, his ass exploded in pain as Troy began to ram his own big dick inside Callum's already over-stuffed pussy.
There was no need to push a button, since Callum now struggled, clamped his muscles tight, and screamed out like an animal.
Meyers had expected a struggle as Callum's sphincter sought to hold back this second invader. An ear-piercing shriek filled the room as Troy battered his way through and relentlessly plunged his own throbbing boner into Callum's hole, alongside Mr. Meyers' hard cock, until both men’s hardons were fully lodged within the screaming boy.
Callum tried frantically to stand up but Troy and Mr. Meyers held him down. At that point, unbelievably, they both began fucking him in tandem.
Callum would never have believed it was possible to suffer such pain. He howled in agony as the two rampaging cunt-busters reamed out his hole. He begged and pleaded with the two of them to stop, the tears streaming down his face. But they were undeterred. Over and over again, they rammed their pulsing tubes of hard man-flesh into the boy's quivering hole, ignoring his shrieks and entreaties. If anything, Meyers liked to watch the boy’s face, contorted in agony, just inches away from himself.
Finally, Callum just collapsed on top of Mr. Meyers, knowing the battle was lost, as the two of the men just kept fucking him. His ass seemed to accept it's duty, and right before he seemed to feel good, Troy pushed the button again.
Callum once again shrieked in agony, once again tightened his muscles, once again worked those dicks until they had shot their loads.
It was only at that point that Mr. Meyers had made his move. He picked up the key and undid the lock to Callum's trainer. Seconds later, he'd removed the plastic sheathing from around Callum's cock. Almost immediately, Callum's nine-inch dick sprang into a full, aching erection.
Suddenly, Callum was aware not only of the monstrous pain spreading from his doubly-impaled pussy, but of the miraculously blooming pleasure emanating from his own liberated cock.
In an instant, Callum was on the verge of cumming and he knew it. Without any conscious thought, he moved his hands towards his crotch.
Immediately, Mr. Meyers interrupted him. "No," he ordered imperiously. "You have to wait, Callum."
And then, while Mr. Meyers and Troy continued to thrust and grind their cocks into his hole, Mr. Meyers kept a firm grip on Callum's wrists, preventing him from achieving the release he craved.
It was only when Callum could feel the twin towers of hot flesh within him erupting with scalding cream that Mr. Meyers let go and grabbed Callum's pulsating member. Troy had paid close attention, and a blinding explosion of electric energy seemed to fry the overly sensitive nuts of the wellfucked model. All it took was two good swipes of Mr. Meyers hands and several short electroshock's and it was Callum's own cock that was first, exploding his load into the air.
In the throes of an all-consuming orgasm, Callum jerked up and down on the two impaling cocks like a puppet out of control, his movements uncontrolled and uncoordinated.
As spurt followed spurt, some cum actually rose high enough to splatter and coat his face, while Callum was going through waves of pain and pleasure. His bruised and battered ass-channel spasmed around the two cocks still throbbing inside of him while his own cock continued to spew a seemingly endless supply of stud-cream. The electric impulses triggering him were now a welcome part in a sexual heatwave he had never experienced before.
Feelings of elation and disgust warred within Callum:
Elation that he had finally shot off and released, at least temporarily, the sexual tensions that had been wracking him mercilessly the past few days.
Disgust that he had achieved this release while he was being fucked not just by one, but by two cocks, obscenely crammed into his pussy, disgorging their own hefty loads deep inside of him like he was a cheap whore. And, as his monstrous eruption finally came to an end, it was disgust which won the battle. He had never felt so fundamentally corrupted, so dirty, so cheap in his whole life.
Even though he'd been allowed to shoot that one time, however, Callum had felt no subsequent diminution in the level of his sexual excitement, contrary to Mr. Meyers expectations and predictions. He knew he would be as horny as fuck in no time again.
This was pretty embarrassing to the formerly proud straight stud. Callum had to face the fact that his sexual arousal had clearly been triggered by an almost non-stop orgy of anal penetrations.
If anything, Callum's level of sexual arousal had increased on Saturday afternoon as each one of his fellow models took his turn fucking Callum's leaking and sore boy-twat.
Callum was beginning to face the uncomfortable truth that he was, for reasons that he couldn't fathom, sexually aroused by having his pussy fucked by other males.
The only fact he could use to console himself a little bit was the fact that the other models knew he was straight. They wouldn’t mistake his obvious sexual excitement for any homosexual tendency. They all seemed to assume that it was just part of the training, he thought.
However, Callum was afraid that the men he was scheduled to entertain Sunday night, being strangers to him, might easily assume that Callum was, indeed, the faggot he professed himself to be. He realized how dumb this thought might be, but instead of being thankful that his hard work would pay off, he still feared for his image.
Of course, Callum knew, Mr. Meyers' whole purpose in subjecting Callum to the weekend of sexual abuse he'd just finished was to allow Callum to pass himself off as gay – as a faggot.
He still trusted his Agent. The weekend had been designed to train Callum how to act like a faggot, not to actually become one of those perverts.
Callum's greatest fear was that somehow, during the course of his training, some internal mechanism had been triggered to turn him into a faggot – a queer boy who got off when other guys fucked his pussy.
He definitely didn't want guys to fuck him. Lying there while one model after another had mounted him, rode him, and then dropped a load of their cum inside of him had been just about the most degrading experience of his life.
Of course, there'd been a lot of degrading experiences in Callum's life recently and it was getting hard to decide just which one was the worst. But definitely lying there as one well-hung stud after another banged his boy twat was one of the worst, particularly when Callum looked up and realized that it was that faggot Kerry who was banging him like Callum was some back-alley bitch.
Callum closed his eyes and sighed in frustration as he realized he needed the training. While Kerry was using him like he was just another faggot, making Callum squeal and buck as the boy battered the model's prostate, he had actually made Callum cum without even being touched, just as Kerry was creaming Callum's pussy.
It had been so humiliating that just thinking about it now was enough to make Callum blush.
Even though Callum had most certainly not enjoyed any of it, he had tried to act as if he did. Mr. Meyers’ instructions had been clear. However, there was also no denying that he had been aroused by the gang-bang.
Callum had no idea that the juice he drank that afternoon had even more of the secret formula.
Even he had to admit that he was way hornier after the afternoon fuck-fest than he had been before – and there had to be something wrong with that! Worse than the growing concern that he was actually turning into a faggot was Callum's fear that Mr. Meyers would notice it, too.
What would he think of Callum?
What would Mr. Meyers think if he became aware that the boy was a perverted dick-gobbler, a fucking faggot who got off on getting his fudge packed?
As embarrassing as it was having to present himself to prospective employers as a faggot, as humiliating as it felt having to act like he enjoyed getting his pussy fucked by total strangers, how much worse it would be if he lost Mr. Meyers respect.
Losing Mr. Meyers respect was simply the worst thing Callum could conceive. He didn't know what he would do if Mr. Meyers discovered he was turning into a fucking queer.
He didn't even want to think about it, so he forced that possibility from his mind and tried to concentrate on his up-coming dinner with Mr. Walensky and his friends.
Of course, Callum realized he wasn't a guest – he was the entertainment. And he needed to get ready for that. He needed to get cleaned up. When his time in the sling was finally over, he slowly trudged up the stairs to the second floor, heading toward the bathroom to take a long shower. Callum tried to clamp down his stretched out boy-chute. He wanted to keep all the cum that had been pumped inside his pussy from dribbling out on to the polished wooden steps.
All he could hope was that the shower would revive him and a couple of douches would clean him out before he left for tonight's entertainment session. He knew that first impressions were really important and he wanted to impress the men tonight. While he soaped up in the huge shower-stall, he tried to relax as much as he could.
To present his body perfectly, he had earlier even used Meyers gym and pumped up his muscles. Callum had not even remotely thought about the fact that the gym might be equipped by hidden cameras, just like every other part of the mansion. The show he had given was tame but still a huge success online, as many men just liked to see naked athletes sweat while working on their sexy bodies. All Callum now thought of was that he wanted to arrive clean, inside and out, even if he knew it was unlikely that he'd stay that way for long. He just hoped that, when everything was over, Mr. Meyers would still be proud of him.
Mr. Meyers, however, was already at work, evaluating his newest model. Callum had his orders, he was busy for the next few hours, grooming himself and resting for his big night.
The Agent was down by the pool, sitting back in a folding chair, wearing a well tailored light suit, sipping a drink, watching a photographer doing his job.
The photographer was hired to do the newest pictures for a famous brand of children's clothing, and today they did the next year's summer wear collection, including swimwear ranging from shorts to the tiniest speedos.
A woman was with Mr. Meyers.
Mrs. Eileen Jameson, a model’s mother, was chattering away while watching her son posing for the cameras. The session was captured by the photographer using a very expensive still cam. However, as Mrs. Jameson well knew, it was normal that an assistant, using a digital camera, and several video cameras on tripods filmed additional footage for the You Tube videos they always used to do extra promotion.
Meyers licked his lips, carefully making sure Mrs. Jameson did not see it, and watched the young model perform. The boy seemed to be 12 at most, perfectly built, a young, active boy in his prime, always out in the sun, riding his bike or skateboard, swimming or playing ball with his friends.
At least the first glance seemed to suggest this.
In fact Theodore Jameson, usually called Teddy, had just turned 18. His mother had provided the paperwork to prove this fact. He was just 5 foot 3 inches tall – or better put, small - and had the built of an athletic, well proportioned 12 year old.
He had been diagnosed with some form of an endocrine disorder, a kind of distortion of his hormone producing glands as he had turned 5, and he never fully got over it. While getting older, he grew, but much slower than usual, and today he was as cute as a button, fully legal, and able to make the perviest man salivate over him.
He was in fact the perfect jail bate, able to make perverts go wild, without actually being underage.
Mr. Meyers knew Teddy's mom was greedy for money, and she usually acted oblivious of the advances her son received. Maybe she was just as plainly stupid as she looked.
Meyers had been contacted by a man named Stan some months ago. The man sent pictures, and as Meyers was interested, even a video. He wanted Meyers to give Teddy the chance he needed, Stan said, and Meyers saw the boy's potential right away.
The film the man had sent to Mr. Meyers showed himself, having fun with his nephew.
Meyers was astonished to see the scene: The man fucking a boy bent over the kitchen counter was burly looking. An average type of guy, no porn star. He smiled right into the camera as he made the boy grunt and moan, and introduced the kid as Teddy, his nephew, while he wanted to be called Uncle Stan.
Meyers soon received a call from the man, and learned about Teddy's condition.
He offered a deal on the spot, and now they were here, taking pictures of Teddy, frolicking around in the shallow water, playing by the like a lucky 12 year old would do on a family vacation.
Meyers knew the pictures would end in a catalog of a major brand, in printed ads and all kinds of online outlets, and the company would sell the swimwear like crazy.
Teddy looked so adorable in it, his full lips made his face shine, his blue eyes and perfectly cut blond hair was the perfect frame for his boyish cute face, and his athletic, tightly muscled body was just what growing boys needed as a role model. Any boy would want such a pair of Speedos, and any loving parent would be glad to buy one.
And more than just one Dad would surely be craving to use and abuse a boy like Teddy.
Yesterday, after a long day of taking pictures, Mr. Meyers had offered to bring Teddy home to the hotel he and his mom stayed at for the time of photo shootings. Mrs. Jameson, bored by the never ending interruptions, new sets of clothing, makeup, rearranging the set, had left to go shopping.
And Teddy ended up in Meyers chauffeured limousine, a little nervous as the man next to him put
his hand on the boy's naked leg. Teddy could see the tube in the mans trousers, and he licked his lips in anticipation. He was well trained, by his Uncle Stan and others, and Mr. Meyers, his new Agent and Boss, knew it.
He smiled down at Teddy like he was reading his mind:
“Yeah little one, you need much more of men's good protein to grow up as big and strong as I am!”
They both knew Teddy would milk several loads out of the man before the night was over. The young man, looking like an innocent boy, perfectly knew only a certain type of men liked to have sex with him, some heavily disturbed men. The type of men who would usually might end in jail for fucking a 12 year old. But if they met him, everything worked out fine.
Teddy was used to the attention of rich and powerful men, and he certainly craved it.
Not long after the ride in the car, he knelt naked on Myers bed, waiting for the man to tell him what to do. He knew he would soon ride Mr. Meyers’ fat dick. But before that he had to suck the man's cock, lick it's full length, nibble on Meyers' huge balls, and drive him almost crazy.
To look down into the boy's innocent eyes while Teddy's full lips closed tight around Meyers’ fat pole made the Agent almost cum on the spot, but Teddy was experienced, letting go of the penis he sucked just before the man's seed boiled over, giggling impishly, teasingly, seductively.
Meyers knew he needed to regain control, or the boy would be hard to handle in the upcoming events. John Meyers pushed Teddy down on his back and put the boy’s legs on his shoulders, right before he rammed his dick all the way into Teddy's wellfucked ass.
No need to be careful, that much was clear. The boy was used to taking dick, and tonight was no exception. After a first grunt he started to moan in delight, like a true, dick loving boy slut.
Meyers knew this first aggressive assault would not take long. Teddy's delicious ass massaged and milked his dick, and Meyers just wanted to cum, hard, quick, in an explosive set of shots, to be able to concentrate again and take his time for round two.
The kid soon lost his innocent appeal as he spurred the man on to fuck him harder, used his well muscled legs to pull Meyers in.
Meyers pinned him down, slammed in deeper, all the way into the hot boy’s ass. Soon Meyers grunted, fully knowing that the little imp had made him loose control again.
After his orgasm, he stayed over Teddy to control his heartbeat, breathing deep, pinning the boy down like a pretty butterfly, skewered on his dick like a huge needle, at last being nothing but a trophy for an avid collector of pretty things.
And Teddy knew he would have many more photo shootings for JM Modeling Agency.
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