Aaa Modeling Agency

This story is a fantasy set in the real world. Obviously, any similarities between characters appearing in it and the real world are purely coincidental. This is also copyrighted material. So while you're welcome to make a personal copy for yourself, any other reproduction or reposting is not allowed without the prior written consent of the author.

Any comments or criticisms should be directed to Rafi at rafidaud69@gmail.com. While suggestions are welcomed, the ten chapters of this story are already written. I would, however, consider any suggestions in future stories.

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AAA Modeling Agency

Chapter 6

Callum just sat there, trying to ignore the tinkle, tinkle, tinkle sound emanating from the commode, his gym shorts pooled around his Nike's. He reached down and gave his ball sac a hard shake, trying to dislodge the last few drops of urine off his cock-head. Then he heard the sounds of someone entering the stall next to him. Immediately, he reached behind himself and hit the flush lever.

As the water flooded into the bowl, he reached over and grabbed a piece of toilet paper. Rubbing it between his fingers he rolled it into a tight cylinder, small enough to fit into the hole at the end of the plastic sheathing that now encased his cock. He wedged it in so that the hole was completely blocked and then reached down and pulled his gym shorts up over his waist.

When he stood up, there was an embarrassing bulge in the thin fabric where it covered his 'erection trainer' but that couldn't be helped. At least with the paper wedged in the hole under his cock-slit he'd be able to complete his workout without the continuous drip of his pre-cum seeping on to his shorts. That was something.

Nothing, however, would prevent the snickers and slurs thrown his way when he stripped down and made his way into the shower when he was done. Everyone could see the plastic 'erection trainer' that now encased his cock and the little padlock that held it in place. It had been bad enough having to display his totally shaven body in the locker room but the addition of his 'erection trainer' seemed to take his embarrassment to an entirely new level. Even dudes who never said anything in the gym couldn't seem to refrain from commenting on it and, almost invariably, the comments were derogatory and insulting. But Callum just stood there and took it, like Mr. DeMarco had told him to. "Don't let the comments of a few ignorant losers keep you from making a success of yourself, Callum," he had told him. "Just ignore them."

Well, that was a lot easier said than done. Particularly when the slurs weren't just coming from a few assholes - they were coming from every guy who saw him naked. Every dude in the gym seemed to think that there was something perverted and obscene about his 'erection trainer'; that wearing it made him somehow less of a man, made him a 'muscle pussy' as a few of them called him. Fucking losers didn't even realize that the reason he had to wear it was because he was too much of a man; he had an excess of testosterone - his gonads were producing too much ball juice and his 'erection trainer' would hopefully bring his overactive hormones under control.

Truth be told, right now Callum felt as horny as he ever had. For the past twenty-four hours it had been as if he was in a constant state of rut. At least with the 'erection trainer' on he was no longer throwing visible wood all day long, though the device didn't keep his dick from plumping up and unsuccessfully trying to harden inside the plastic. And it certainly didn't keep a steady drip of pre-cum from his cock-slit, which was usually painfully crunched up against the tip of the plastic encompassing his cock.

Callum had learned the hard way that, when his cock was dripping pre the way it was today, the only way he could avoid embarrassing cum stains on his shorts was to make sure the hole at the end of the trainer that allowed him to piss was blocked up when he wasn't actually urinating. Over time, of course, the tissue would become saturated with his cum and lose its absorbent qualities. But, so long as he changed the tissue every two hours or so, he could at least appear in public without cumming the front of his shorts.

Unfortunately, the first time Mr. DeMarco had seen the wedged tissue paper at the end of his erection trainer, he'd laughingly referred to it as Callum's 'boy tampon.' Callum had blushed deeply and, though Mr. DeMarco had hastened to inform him that he meant nothing derogatory, the term had stuck in Callum's mind. From then on he couldn't stick the tissue-paper wedge into the piss-slit without thinking of what Mr. DeMarco had called it. It was pretty emasculating, though Callum was sure that Mr. DeMarco hadn't meant it that way. If there was one thing that Callum was certain of it was that Mr. DeMarco had only Callum's best interests at heart.

Sometimes Callum did think that Mr. DeMarco was being extra hard on him, calling him out and disciplining him for what Callum had to think were mild infractions or mistakes. Mr. DeMarco had actually admitted as much but justified his severity by his desire to make sure Callum made the most of his talents. Sure, Callum's ass was sore and bruised after those sessions over Mr. DeMarco's knee, but Callum appreciated the extra effort that Mr. DeMarco was putting into his training.

It was obviously just a sign of Mr. DeMarco's willingness to go the extra mile with Callum that had led the man to insist that Callum try controlling his excessive sex-drive with an 'erection trainer.' Callum had never even heard of such a device. And he was more than a little embarrassed when Mr. DeMarco showed him it and explained how it worked. But the embarrassment he felt when he first looked at the erection trainer in Mr. DeMarco's hand was nothing compared to the humiliation that enveloped him the first time he saw it encasing his cock.

Of course, just getting it on that first time was a struggle - his cock just wouldn't go down. Not even after Mr. DeMarco called both Troy and Kerry into the office and they both took turns blowing him. After the third blowjob, his cock had seemed pretty soft but when Mr. DeMarco tried to get Callum's cock inside the trainer, the tightness of the fit had caused his cock to once again straighten up and forced Mr. DeMarco to order Kerry to suck him off again.

Yet, the result was no different afterwards. Callum's cock had softened after Kerry had downed Callum's fourth load of the afternoon but the minute they tried to slip on the plastic sheathing, his dick had begun erecting itself again. Mr. DeMarco called Troy over and whispered some instructions and then turned to Callum.

"You can see the extent of the problem, can't you Callum?" he started off. Without waiting for Callum to respond, the man continued. "We've just got to get your excessive production of testosterone under control or it's going to be virtually impossible to market you as a swimwear or underwear model. You're boned up almost all the time. I'm pretty sure the erection trainer will help you out but we've got to get it on you first."

"I didn't want to have to do this," he continued apologetically, "but I can't think of any other way to get your dick not to self-erect." Then, turning his face slightly he said "Go ahead, Troy."

Callum glanced to his side and was startled to see that Troy had returned and was now standing right next to him. His mind just had time to process the fact that Troy was holding a large bowl of crushed ice in his hands when Troy moved the bowl under Callum's scrotum and then reached out and forced Callum's cock deep into the ice. A scream of agony filled the air as the ice burned against Callum's hardened dick.

Callum had always had a particularly sensitive penis which reacted almost immediately to even the slightest manual manipulation. And, in the past, Callum had been inordinately proud of how quickly he responded to stimuli - how fast he would get hard, how quickly he could go from a flaccid dick to a dripping, aching boner. In his mind, it showed what a real man he was. When the time came to fuck, when the time came to get down to business, Callum could alway perform like a real stud. When Callum's erection problem began to appear, Callum suspected that this natural sensitivity might be part of the problem.

Moreover, Callum's constant state of arousal over the past few weeks had forced him to masturbate himself ever more frequently until he had arrived at the point where it seemed as if he was jacking himself off 24/7. Not surprisingly, the constant stroking of his erect penis had caused it to become tender and sore, so much so that jacking off was, itself, becoming painful. And all of this - his natural sensitivity to stimulation, his dick's increased tenderness because of constant masturbation - had combined to make the sudden submersion of Callum's blood-engorged cock into a bowl of ice even more painful than might normally be expected.

The searing pain that Callum felt when his hard dick was pushed into the ice was excruciating and for a moment he thought he might pass out. His whole body jerked and bucked and he would have yanked his cock out of the ice-bowl had not Mr. DeMarco sternly warned him not to move. Sobbing repeatedly as the pain continued unabated, Callum struggled to obey his agent's orders. Callum couldn't believe how much his cock hurt. But the ice submersion did the trick. In less than a minute Callum's cock had completely softened.

Troy held Callum's cock underneath the ice for another half-minute, while Callum continued to writhe in pain. "Please, Troy. Please," Callum begged through the tears that were flowing down his face, but Troy didn't relent until he was sure that Callum's dick was truly flaccid. Then, he lowered the bowl and stepped aside.

Immediately, Mr. DeMarco moved in and, before Callum could collect himself, he attached the erection trainer to the boy's limp dick. Even in its softened state, the insertion of his now painfully throbbing cock into the plastic hurt like hell. Mr. DeMarco fiddled with the erection trainer for a moment and then stood back. Looking down, Callum saw that, even though it was now flaccid, his cock completely filled the plastic sheathing which curved sharply downward from the base of his scrotum. Observing how it was attached to another piece of plastic positioned behind his balls and held in place by a small padlock, he realized that it would now be impossible for his cock to bone up. He could see why Mr. DeMarco held out hope that this might solve Callum's erection problem.

But, as Callum soon discovered, while the erection trainer did, indeed, keep his cock from becoming erect, it seemed to have no effect in dampening his sexual urges. In less than an hour after he'd left the office he could feel the unmistakable signs of sexual arousal. His nipples hardened up, he was becoming flushed and he could even feel the blood trying to flood into his imprisoned cock. In fact, in some ways the erection trainer seemed to make things worse. True, it kept him from actually throwing a bone but the pressure of the blood attempting to inflate his penis painfully forced the entire length of his cock tightly against the plastic sheathing. Soon, his entire consciousness was focused on his cock and the need to get off.

It was particularly bad that first night. Before, even though he found himself masturbating three or four times every night, Callum had been able to doze off in the time periods between jack-off sessions. But with the erection trainer preventing him from cumming, his aroused state never diminished and Callum found it basically impossible to get any sleep. By the time he got to the agency the next afternoon, not only was he physically exhausted but, inasmuch as his cock had been dripping pre-cum steadily for the last twelve hours, Callum felt himself almost frantic in his need to get some sexual relief. Once inside Mr. DeMarco's office, he openly questioned whether the erection trainer was doing any good at all.

Mr. DeMarco calmly told him that it was far too soon to tell if the erection trainer would ultimately work. He told Callum that getting his testosterone production down to acceptable levels was going to take some time and he couldn't expect over-night results. But he was sympathetic to Callum's present plight and he suggested that they remove the trainer and let Callum work out a few loads and drain his still over-active balls. No sooner had the base of the plastic sheathing cleared the tip of Callum's cock than the boy's dick rose rigidly erect.

Mr. DeMarco called Troy in and the receptionist, following Mr. DeMarco's instructions, dropped to his knees in front of Callum and went to work on the boy's throbbing cock. It took an hour and a half and four loads but, eventually, Callum lost his erection. However, the moment Mr. DeMarco tried to slide the erection trainer back into the place, the previous day's problems resurfaced and Callum's cock became aroused again. Mr. DeMarco had Troy try one more blowjob but, as had happened before, even though Callum's cock deflated after he orgasmed, it began to re-erect when Mr. DeMarco tried to re-sheathe it in plastic.

Mr. DeMarco said they had no choice but to use the ice-bath technique again and told Troy to go fill up the bowl they'd used the day before with fresh ice. If anything, knowing what was coming made the second ice submersion even worse than the first. Callum was crying like a baby by the time Mr. DeMarco finally gave his okay and Troy removed Callum's tortured dick from the bowl and Mr. DeMarco re-inserted Callum's cock inside the erection trainer.

But, no sooner had Callum left the office than he could feel himself becoming sexually aroused once again. That afternoon and evening were simply a repeat of the previous night and by the time Callum returned to the agency the next afternoon he was in the same state of exhaustion and sexual frustration that he had been in the day before.

Once again, Mr. DeMarco removed the trainer and Troy proceeded to suck Callum's super-aroused dick until it finally became flaccid. Once again, however, every time Mr. DeMarco tried to get the trainer on to his cock it would begin to re-harden. Once again, Callum was forced to endure another excruciating submersion of his tender penis into a slushy bowl of ice. This time, though, after Mr. DeMarco had finally succeeded in re-attaching Callum's erection trainer to the boy's cock, he told Callum that this couldn't continue and if there was no improvement in Callum's super-aroused state by tomorrow, they'd have to take a different tack.

When Callum arrived at Mr. DeMarco's office the next day as exhausted and sexually aroused as he'd been the two previous days, he was hopeful that Mr. DeMarco would agree that the erection trainer was just not working. While he was surprised to see Kerry waiting with Mr. DeMarco in the office, he'd been around the other model often enough that he didn't even feel self-conscious stripping off his running shorts and assuming the position in front of the two of them. He stood there, feeling his cock painfully pulsing inside of the plastic sleeve encasing it, the entire length of his penis painfully pressing against its sides, and waited for Mr. DeMarco to speak.

"Just looking at you, Callum," the man began, "I'd have to assume that last night was no improvement over the previous nights."

"No, sir," Callum agreed. "It wasn't. I couldn't get any sleep. Between the pain and the need to get off, I just tossed and turned the entire night."

"Well, things can't go on this way," Mr. DeMarco declared. "You look like shit and, from what you say, you don't feel much better." Mr. DeMarco got up, moved around his desk, removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock. Even before Mr. DeMarco had finished removing the plastic sheathing from around Callum's cock, the boy's cock began erecting. Callum felt not only instant relief at the removal of the trainer but also the urgent need to drain his aching and cum-filled balls.

Obviously, Mr. DeMarco understood his situation because he immediately turned to Kerry. But, what he told Kerry to do surprised Callum. "Kerry, strip," he ordered. Inasmuch as Kerry had arrived at the agency wearing just shorts and a tank-top, it took only seconds for the boy to comply with Mr. DeMarco's directive. Callum was taken aback by this turn of events because Troy had always sucked him off without removing his own clothes and Callum didn't see why Kerry had to be naked to blow him. If anything, the other boy's nakedness was something of a turn-off for Callum, particularly seeing how, now that he was naked, it was obvious that Kerry was himself fully erect.

But what happened next came as a total shock to Callum. Mr. DeMarco turned to Kerry and ordered him to go over to the sofa and lie face down. Then he turned back to Callum. "Callum, what I want you to do is go over there and fuck Kerry's ass."

Callum looked at the man thunderstruck. He could hardly believe his ears. It was one thing to let a fag blow you. As Callum had discovered, fags were exceptionally good at giving head and it'd be stupid not to take advantage of their skills when you needed to get off. But fucking a guy up the ass - that was something only a faggot would do. And Callum wasn't a faggot. There was no way he was going to fuck another guy up the ass - particularly not an obvious queer-boy like Kerry who'd almost certainly get off on it. Callum couldn't believe that Mr. DeMarco had even suggested that.

"I'm sorry, sir..." Callum started to protest, but Mr. DeMarco cut him off.

"I know what you're going to say, Callum, but I want you to hear me out." Mr. DeMarco's face was just inches from Callum's, his eyes boring into the boy's eyes. "I can fully understand how a straight guy like you - how any straight guy - would react to being ordered to fuck another guy. And I would never even suggest such action except in the most compelling circumstances. But, unfortunately, I'm afraid just those circumstances now exist."

"We've tried relieving your sexual tension the past few days by having Troy blow you. But that approach clearly hasn't worked. While Troy has succeeded in milking you of a massive amount of cum, it hasn't had any noticeable effect on the amount of ball-juice you continue to produce. It's just not working. We need to try a different approach."

"I think what's happening is that although Troy's ministrations have been sufficient to temporarily deplete your supply of cum they've had no effect on the continuous production of sperm which is the real source of the problem. I would guess that what we have here is an over-active libido which is clearly not satisfied by a simple blowjob. Obviously, what's needed is a more substantial form of sexual release. Optimally, of course, what would be best would be having you fuck a woman. The problem is that you've told me you're not presently involved with any person of the opposite sex and, as you're aware, this office as a matter of corporate policy doesn't represent female models."

"While we do have a few gay models who we represent, I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to ask any of them for assistance. It seemed to me too close to pandering, something I wouldn't want to get involved in." Even Dean Demarco was surprised he could say that with a straight face. But he smoothly continued, "Fortunately, when I happened to mention your problem to Kerry, he willingly volunteered to help you out. I hope I don't have to tell you what an incredibly generous offer that was."

At this point, Mr. DeMarco took a step back and just looked at Callum expectantly. It took Callum a few moments to realize that the man expected a response.

"But, sir," Callum began, his mind reeling, "Kerry's a guy - a fuckin... a gay guy. If I have sex with him, it's pretty much like admitting I'm like him - that I'm ... gay."

Mr. DeMarco's displeasure was obvious. "That's just nonsense, Callum," he replied. "You've told me you've had sex with numerous women. Well, that doesn't make you a woman, does it?"

"It's not the same thing," Callum protested. "It's normal for a guy to have sex with a woman. That's the way it's supposed to be. That's how humans procreate."

"Oh, really," Mr. DeMarco responded. "So I suppose you're going to tell me that you've never fucked a woman up the ass."

"Well, have you?" Mr. DeMarco pressed when Callum hesitated.

"Yeah. I've fucked women up the ass," Callum admitted, with obvious reluctance.

"And did you think you'd get her pregnant that way?" Mr. DeMarco sneered. "Do you think that's how procreation works?"

"No, sir,"

"But you did it anyway," Mr. DeMarco pointed out. "You did it because it was a way of getting off. And that's all I'm suggesting right now. That you fuck Kerry's ass as a way of getting off."

"But he's a guy," Callum protested, feeling that he was losing this argument and not understanding how that was happening. "He's a guy."

"But his ass is just like a woman's ass."

"No, it's not," Callum whined.

"Oh," Mr. DeMarco retorted, the sarcasm no longer disguised. "And you now this how? Because you've already fucked him up the ass?"

"No. Of course not. It's just...it's just he's a guy. It's gotta be different."

There was a long pause at this point. Mr. DeMarco's face softened. And, when he spoke again, it was in a voice heavy with concern. "Look, Callum. I won't lie to you. I don't know if fucking Kerry's ass will help bring your testosterone production under control. I think it might - but I really can't be sure. But what I am sure of is that if we don't bring it under control, your future as a male model is in real jeopardy."

A heavy sigh escaped the man as he slowly retreated behind his desk. He sat down and looked up at Callum. "I'm not going to order you to fuck Kerry, Callum. That decision has to be yours. But if you refuse, I'm going to have to decide whether it's worth this agency's time and money to keep you as a client. It's not a decision I want to make, but it's one that I will have to in fairness not only to the other models I represent but to you, too. I certainly wouldn't want you to waste all your time and effort pursuing a career which I know will never materialize. And it won't if we can't get your erection problem under control. The ball is in your court, Callum. What are you going to do? Are you going to at least take a swing at it or just stand there and let the ball skip right by?"

Callum looked at Mr. DeMarco like a little boy who'd just been told that Santa Claus wasn't coming this year. Hearing his biggest fears verbalized made them so much more threatening. He knew that the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now was fuck some other dude's ass. No, he told himself, there was one thing worse - losing out on the opportunity to make something out of his life. And that was clearly the choice that faced him. Fuck Kerry's ass or say goodbye to his future as a model.

Slowly, seemingly forced by a power beyond his control, he turned his head until he was looking at Kerry stretched out on the couch. Kerry's pale white legs were separated far enough that he could see the boy's shaved rosette. Despite himself, despite all the contempt for faggots he'd stored up over the years, he had to admit that the boy had a really hot-looking ass. If only it were on a girl - then Callum would have had no problems doing exactly what Mr. DeMarco wanted him to do. He'd fuck that ass in a second. If only Kerry were some bitch rather than a dude.

And as he thought that, he heard a little voice in his mind saying 'faggots are like bitches - and that's how they should be treated. Like bitches.' And then it was like a light going on inside of his brain. He had to see Kerry not as a fellow male but as a 'bitch.' Callum had fucked lots of bitches in his life - cheap little whores who loved taking dick up their twats. Cunts who would put up with anything just to get Callum's big boner rutting away at their pussies.

'That's what Kerry is,' Callum told himself. 'He's just like one of those bitches. He's just a hole to be used to get my rocks off.' Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd turned and approached Kerry where he was lying on the couch. Looking at the bitch's fantastic ass, Callum could feel the juices surging inside him. He needed to get off. God, he needed to get off. And this bitch was going to help him to do just that.

Callum roughly forced the Kerry's legs further apart and knelt in between them. Suddenly, he brought his right hand smashing down on the bitch's ass-cheeks. The smack reverberated through the room and Kerry yelped in pain. 'Oh, yeah,' Callum thought, 'work that bitch's ass,' as he slapped it again and again with his hand, seeing the little bitch begin to writhe beneath him, hearing his groans become louder, watching those beautiful pale melons begin to transition from pink to red.

Suddenly, Callum couldn't wait any longer. He leaned forward, spit on the end of his iron-hard cock - saliva was all the lube bitches needed - and then, in one violent thrust buried his big dick to its root in the slut's tight hole.

"God damn," Kerry shouted beneath him.

"Shut up and take it, bitch," Callum growled in response.

He needed to show the bitch who was boss. So Callum began deep-dicking the slut, pulling his massive cock all the way out and then barreling back in, never giving the bitch a chance to get used to the monster organ pummeling his hole. Callum actually grabbed the little whore's shoulders so he could fuck the bitch with even more force.

Beneath him, Kerry was moaning under the force of the assault. "Please, Callum," he pleaded. "Not so hard, man. Please, go slower."

'Fuck you, bitch,' Callum thought. 'This is about me. Not you, bitch. Who gives a fuck whether you enjoy it?'

Callum was getting close now. He began grounding himself into the bitch, trying to force his raging hard-on deeper and deeper, hearing the bitch whimper beneath him, loving the tightness of the bitch's hole. "Take it, you fucking cunt," he screamed as his cock exploded with cum. It felt like he was shooting a gallon of juice up the bitch's hole and his cock spewed its seed in one long, continuous stream.

After a humongous orgasm, Callum just collapsed on the bitch's back, breathing hard, feeling totally drained. But that feeling didn't last long. In just a few minutes, Callum could feel the need to get off returning. He worked his hands underneath the bitch and found what he was looking forward. He squeezed down hard on the slut's tits and was rewarded by a squeal of pain from Kerry.

"Get your ass moving, bitch," he ordered. "I ain't done with you yet. Not by a long shot." Groaning audibly, Kerry squeezed his ass around Callum's still-hard invader. In mere seconds, Callum was back to plowing and plundering the bitch's back-channel, the violence of his first assault undiminished.

Forty-five minutes later, he was again lying on Kerry's sweaty back, but this time he finally felt totally spent. He'd lost count of how many loads he dropped up the faggot's hole; it had to be close to half a dozen. Slowly he raised himself up. He felt his cock, totally flaccid at last, drop from the slut's cunt. Looking down at the whore's fucked-out hole, he realized that it now actually looked like a cunt, a slimy stretched-out cunt dripping a stud's ball scuzz. It reminded him of the way Kerry's hole had looked up on the roof that day when he thought the little faggot must have pulled a train the night before. And he'd done all the damage himself. He hadn't needed a team of buddies to give this bitch the fucking he deserved - he'd done it all by himself. He was one super stud.

Feeling better about himself than he had since he'd started wearing the erection trainer, he turned to face Mr. DeMarco. "Did I do good, sir?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"You did great, Callum," Mr. DeMarco replied, a warm smile creasing his face. "You did super. I'm proud of you, Callum."

Callum basked in Mr. DeMarco's praise. But his feeling of elation was short-lived when he saw the man pick up the erection trainer and approach him. "Do we still need that, sir?" he asked plaintively.

"I'm afraid we do, Callum," the man responded. "After all, we can't be sure that fucking Kerry's ass will have any more long-lasting effects than having Troy blow you. For now, at least, we'll have to continue with the program."

Mr. DeMarco knelt in front of his model and brought the plastic sheath up to his cock-head. To Callum's surprise and considerable relief, for the first time Mr. DeMarco was able to get the trainer fitted over his cock and locked into place without being forced to resort to the ice bath. Maybe things were finally improving. Buoyed by this turn of events, Callum pulled on his running shorts and flip-flops and headed off to the gym.

The next two days were really encouraging. While Callum's cock would still respond to Troy's daily milking, it was otherwise behaving itself. Most of the day, it just lay quiescently inside the plastic sheathing, no longer a constant source of discomfort and pain. What Callum most appreciated, however, was that for the next two nights he was able to get a full night's sleep. He felt refreshed and almost back to normal.

On the third day after his session with Kerry, Callum again broached the question of whether it was time to dispense with the erection trainer. Callum was euphoric when Mr. DeMarco agreed to give it a try. That afternoon, for the first time in almost two weeks, Callum left the agency with his cock not enclosed in plastic.

Unfortunately, that evening Callum was disconcerted to find that his old erection problem seemed to be returning. He jacked himself off four times during the night but he had no sooner left home on his way to the agency when he realized that he was once again sporting wood. Needless to say, Mr. DeMarco was not happy when he saw Callum's big cock in full erection when Callum dropped his shorts and assumed the position. Callum was disappointed but not surprised when he heard Mr. DeMarco tell him that it was back to the erection trainer.

This time, however, when Mr. DeMarco tried to re-attach the trainer after Troy had sucked Callum off, he was unsuccessful. He tried twice but both times Callum's cock hardened up before Mr. DeMarco could get the erection trainer on him. Once again, the man had to resort to ice submersion in order to get Callum's dick sufficiently pliant as to fit inside the plastic tubing. Callum had forgotten how painful the ice bath was and left the office shaken.

His frame of mind was not improved when he discovered that, even with the trainer back in place, his cock was leaking a copious amount of ball-juice. Once again, he was forced to wedge tissue paper up the trainer's hole to keep from staining his shorts. And that night, he didn't sleep a wink between the pain of the constriction caused by the plastic sheathing and the urgent but impossible need to cum. When he got out of bed the next morning, Callum was forced to admit to himself that his condition had seemingly reverted to its pre-Kerry state.

Mr. DeMarco was obviously of the same mind, so Callum was not surprised when he came back downstairs from his tanning session on the roof to see Kerry waiting with Mr. DeMarco. This time, though, after Kerry had stripped down and assumed his position on the couch, Callum found himself almost looking forward to fucking the little faggot. After all, fucking Kerry had not only given him the only real relief he'd felt since his erection problem had begun, Callum had actually enjoyed plowing the little bitch's tight hole.

Callum had given it a lot of thought and had come to the conclusion that in this, as in virtually everything else Mr. DeMarco suggested, the man had been right. Fucking one bitch's asshole was just like fucking any other bitch's asshole - and it didn't make any difference whether it was a male bitch or a female bitch. And, being honest with himself, Callum had to admit that, while he'd fucked a lot of female bitch-ass in the past and enjoyed doing it, Kerry's ass was, without question, the best ass he'd ever had the pleasure of plowing. So what if Kerry was a dude? He was still a bitch. And bitches were made to be fucked.

Callum had actually thought about fucking Kerry's bitch-hole again even before his erection problem had re-manifested itself, but he couldn't figure out any way of raising that possibility with Mr. DeMarco that didn't seem to adversely reflect upon Callum's masculinity. But now that the perfect justification had been provided, Callum viewed it almost as an answer to a prayer. So it was a much different Callum who approached Kerry's prone body this time.

"Ready to get fucked, bitch," he asked as he spread the boy's legs.

"Yes, sir," Kerry dutifully replied.

"Then beg for it bitch. Prove to me that you deserve to be fucked by my big cock."

"Oh, please, sir," Kerry begged, falling into a role he'd already played a number of times before, though never with Callum. "Fuck my bitch ass. Stick your big dong up my tight little pussy and fuck the shit out of me. Give me the pounding I deserve. Fuck me till I'm leaking your creamy stud-scuzz." Kerry wiggled his ass in front of Callum as seductively as he could, intentionally trying to arouse the model so that he'd just hop aboard and begin screwing him, hoping to avoid the preliminary ass-tanning that he'd painfully endured the last time Callum had fucked him.

But, although Callum was definitely turned-on by Kerry's twitching ass and verbal subjugation, he wasn't about to forego the pleasure of burnishing the boy's butt again. He'd enjoyed that part of their previous session way too much not to want to repeat it. But this time, while he went about the task of turning Kerry's milky white buns into flaming crimson globes, he kept up his verbal assault on the boy, taunting him, making him admit that he was a pathetic little bitch who needed to be spanked, who craved being fucked by a real man, who craved being fucked by Callum.

Eventually, though, his level of arousal proved too much to resist. Callum threw himself onto Kerry's back and proceeded to fuck him like a man possessed, like a prisoner just released from a ten-year jail sentence, like a rutting greyhound would fuck a four-legged bitch. By the time he'd finished with him, having deposited four loads into the boy's steamy love tunnel, Kerry's ass looked even more ravaged than it had after his first session with Callum. It looked like the cunt of some pasty old whore who'd just spent a week on a troopship. And Callum felt fantastic. Absolutely, unequivocally fantastic.

And four days later, when the aching, urgent feelings overcame him again, Callum didn't feel the slightest reluctance in suggesting to Mr. DeMarco that what he, Callum, needed was another go at Kerry's ass. And Mr. DeMarco, who always had Callum's best interests at heart, had immediately agreed.

And so, in a short period of time, it had become regularized. Whenever Callum felt the old feelings of sexual urgency overwhelming him, he'd let Mr. DeMarco know and Kerry would make himself available for Callum's relief. It quickly got to the point where fucking Kerry's ass two or even three times a week seemed perfectly natural, something Callum even looked forward to.

So Callum wasn't that upset when he completed his work-out with tissue paper wedged into this trainer. He'd already phoned Mr. DeMarco and explained the situation and Mr. DeMarco had told him to stop by after his workout and they'd take care of Callum's problem. Knowing that relief was in the offing, he was even able to shrug off all the derogatory comments that assaulted his ears as he made his way to the shower afterwards. He just kept his mind focused on Kerry's pretty ass and what he'd being doing to it in just a few more minutes.

But to Callum's considerable confusion, while Troy was in Mr. DeMarco's office conferring with his boss when Callum arrived, Kerry was nowhere in sight. His surprise was so great that, contrary to all office protocol, he just blurted out "Where's Kerry?"

The look Mr. DeMarco cast in his direction was enough to make Callum know that his transgression had not gone unnoticed. Quickly, he dropped his running shorts, stepped out of his flip-flops and assumed the expected position: legs apart, hands clasped behind his neck, elbows parallel to his torso. "Sorry, sir," he apologized.

Mr. DeMarco acknowledged his apology with a curt nod of his head. "I was just discussing that subject with Troy, here. It seems that Kerry has come down with a rather severe cold and, as you know, summer colds can be the worst. He was willing to come in anyway, but I didn't want to risk the possibility of you contracting it, too. Not when we have your first interview with a hiring agent finally scheduled for next Tuesday afternoon."

"Yes, Callum," he confirmed, seeing the excited expression which had lit up the boy's face, "you have an interview and audition scheduled in four days with Sam Walensky, who's the agent for a number of sportswear companies we deal with. So I want you in peak condition."

While Callum was elated that he was finally going to be sent out for an audition, the more pressing problem right now was his heightened state of sexual excitement. "That's great, sir," he told the man. "I'm really excited about going out for my first interview. But, like I mentioned on the phone, my excessive testosterone problem seems to have resurfaced and I was hoping that Kerry could help me out with it, like he's done in the past. It's really bad, sir. I've been dripping pre all day."

"Yes, I can see that," Mr. DeMarco replied, pointedly looking down at the tip of Callum's erection trainer. Callum had removed his 'boy tampon' when he showered at the gym and somehow forgot to replace it when he got dressed. When Callum followed Mr. DeMarco's gaze and looked down at his crotch, he was mortified to see that his pre had already begun dripping through the hole in the bottom of the trainer onto the carpet. He glanced back up at Mr. DeMarco and smiled ruefully. "Sorry, sir," he muttered. "But you can see my problem."

"Yes, I can," Mr. DeMarco assured his model. "That's why I asked Troy to join us for this session."

Callum gave Troy a quick look and saw that the office receptionist was clearly smirking at him. Somewhat disconcerted, Callum turned back to Mr. DeMarco. "To tell you the truth, sir, I'm not sure having Troy blow me will do the job. I mean, I know he can get me off - he's a real good cocksucker - but in the past the relief I've felt has only been temporary. It hasn't worked nearly as well as when I fuc....when I use Kerry to get off."

Callum began to fidget, not sure whether it was okay to call Troy a cocksucker, even though that's what the faggot clearly was. Not that he had meant it insultingly - Troy was a great cocksucker. Even Callum had to admit that. But Mr. DeMarco had been really working hard to curb Callum's tendency to use derogatory terms for gays - constantly reminding him that the wrong term carelessly thrown out might have a very negative impact on his career. Callum had to hope he hadn't just earned himself another disciplinary session.

They'd become pretty frequent in the last few weeks and his butt was still sore from the hard paddling he'd received two days ago. That had been particularly painful and demeaning, but Mr. DeMarco had explained that he'd hurt his hand and had no choice but to use a paddle as a substitute. While Callum could understand that, the paddle had hurt a lot worse than a regular spanking and he sure as hell didn't want to undergo another punishment session before he was sure that Mr. DeMarco's hand had recovered.

But, when Mr. DeMarco began explaining why Troy was in the office, Callum's fears of punishment were bruited aside by his surprise at Mr. DeMarco's proposal. "You're right, Callum. I don't think that having Troy suck you off would solve your problem, but what I thought might - and what Troy has agreed to, somewhat reluctantly - is letting you fuck him. That's what works with Kerry and I figured it'd probably work with Troy."

"So, Troy," Mr. DeMarco continued, turning to his receptionist and not giving Callum even the opportunity to object, "why don't you take off your clothes and go lie down on the sofa."

Callum couldn't help watching Troy as he stripped. It had been a while since he'd seen the little faggot naked and he'd forgotten how well-developed his body was. Troy was on the slight side but his body was totally ripped. While he was smaller over-all than Kerry he somehow manifested a more masculine aura - which Callum found pretty surprising knowing what a nelly queen the boy really was, though even Callum had to admit that lately Troy had been toning it down. He figured Mr. DeMarco must have said something to the boy.

But it wasn't until Troy positioned himself on the sofa that real doubts arose as to whether the substitution of Troy for Kerry would work. Troy laid down on his back, raised his legs and then used his hands to grab them under his knees, spreading them apart. Disconcerted, Callum turned back to Mr. DeMarco.

"Kerry always lies down face forward," Callum noted. "I think I prefer it that way, sir."

"Unfortunately, Troy has a bad back and lying in the supine position is best for him," Mr. DeMarco responded. "Under the circumstances, I think it's best if we accommodate him, don't you agree?"

Judging from the tenor of his response, Callum had to assume that the 'supine position' referred to lying on his back as opposed to his stomach. While Callum could somewhat sympathize with Troy's situation, it didn't in any way ease Callum's discomfort with the prospect of fucking him face to face.

Seeing Callum still hesitating, Mr. DeMarco asked him, "Is there a problem, Callum?"

"Ahh, yes, sir," Callum reluctantly replied. "There is."

"Well, what is it?" Mr. DeMarco asked when Callum didn't elucidate, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.

"Well, sir. Troy is a guy and I...I just have trouble fucking another guy."

"Well, Kerry's a guy, too, and you sure don't have any trouble fucking his ass."

"But Kerry faces the other way," Callum tried to explain. "I don't see his face when I'm fucking him....or his cock."

"That's it?" Mr. DeMarco asked, clearly peeved. "You can only fuck a guy if you can't see his cock?"

Mr. DeMarco looked at Callum with tightly controlled anger. He was definitely upset, as he made clear when he continued speaking. "I thought we were passed that, Callum. I really did. And I've already explained to you why Troy has to lie on his back. I'm certainly not going to ask him to turn over and risk physical injury just because you can't get over some minor hang-up. But, if it means that much to you, we'll just forget about it. We'll wait for Kerry to get over his cold. Of course, that means cancelling your audition on Tuesday but that can't be helped. I'm sure as hell not going to send you to see Sam Walensky with your erection problem uncontrolled. God know what he would think - about you and about the agency, too. He's far too important a hiring agent to risk alienating."

"Troy," he continued, now addressing his receptionist. "Why don't you get up and get dressed? We're done here."

"No, wait," Callum hurriedly interjected. "Please, sir. I'll do it. I'll fuck Troy."

"Oh, please," the man responded sarcastically. "Don't do me any favors."

"No, sir," Callum responded in his meekest manner. "I'm sorry. I really am. I know I have some hang-ups that I need to overcome. But I'm working on them, sir. I really am. I'll fuck Troy, I will. Please, sir. Let me fuck him." Just a month ago, the idea that Callum would be begging to be allowed to fuck another dude would have struck him as preposterous, but there he was pleading with Mr. DeMarco to be allowed to fuck Troy.

The irony of the situation was not lost upon Dean DeMarco, though he managed to suppress his amusement and maintain an angry mien. Slowly, he allowed his face to soften. "Well, okay then, Callum. You can fuck Troy. But this is the last time I want to hear of any hang-ups about you fucking another man. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Callum replied, immensely relieved that he had avoided jeopardizing his up-coming interview but still unsettled by the fact that he was going to have to fuck Troy while he was looking at him, looking at his cock, too. Glancing over at the couch, Callum could see that the boy's dick was fully engorged, actually sticking up from his stomach. It was going to be rubbing against Callum's belly as he fucked him. There was no way he was going to be able to kid himself that it was some chick he was fucking. He was going to be fucking another dude and he wasn't going to be able to pretend otherwise while he did him.

But then Callum caught himself. He was thinking about this wrong. He needed to get in the mind-set he used when he fucked Kerry. Troy wasn't another dude - he wasn't a bro. He was a bitch, just like Kerry. Sure he was a bitch with a cock - a good-sized one, too. But he was still a bitch, a little faggot bitch.

After all, Kerry had a cock, too. And it was rock-hard when Callum was fucking him, as Callum had inadvertently discovered more than once when he'd worked a hand under Kerry's body while he was pounding the slut's tight little butt. It hadn't bothered Callum because he'd figured that's what bitches do; they get excited when a stud is fucking them.

So, Callum told himself, why should he care that Troy was sporting wood at the prospect of getting fucked by Callum. Callum was used to bitches getting excited by the prospect of getting plowed by his big dick and Troy was just another bitch - just one of the male variety. It stood to reason that he'd be boned up at the prospect of getting a real man to fuck his faggot ass. If he looked at it right, it was a tribute to Callum's essential masculinity, a sign of what a real stud he was.

Mentally refortified, Callum approached Troy with his own smirk. Looking at the fleshy buns separated by the anal cleft he'd soon be plundering, he realized what they needed. They needed a good ass-tanning. So, without the slightest hesitation, Callum proceeded to do just that.

Troy tried to maintain an air of stoicism as his butt-cheeks were alternately squeezed and slapped but every so often, when a particularly vicious swat had landed full-bore on one of his cheeks, a muffled cry would escape. And hearing those swallowed groans was an incredible turn-on for Callum. By the time Troy's ass was a vibrant scarlet, Callum had totally forgotten about any inhibitions he'd had about fucking the boy's ass. Now he was hot to trot. He quickly spread the precum he'd been leaking along the length of his cock and, without any other lubrication, buried it to its root in Troy's ass.

The receptionist tried but couldn't stifle a howl of pain as the giant tube of meat was brutally thrust all the way up his hole. And that just turned Callum on more. In no time at all, he was violently pistoning his cock in and out of the grunting bitch's little fuck-hole.

Despite his best efforts, as the fuck went on Troy couldn't hide how much it was hurting him. And it suddenly occurred to Callum that he'd been stupid to object to fucking Troy face to face. It was actually hotter seeing the effect his big dick was having on Troy's face than it had ever been when he merely listened to Kerry gasp and moan as his bitch-hole was ravaged. Next time he fucked that bitch Kerry he'd take him in the missionary position just like he was doing to Troy right now. He'd enjoy seeing Kerry grimace and squeal as he got plowed out by a real man.

Callum would have liked to draw out Troy's first fuck but, just like it always was with Kerry, all the spunk that'd been stored up in his balls for the last twenty-four hours would not be denied. In mere minutes he was creaming the inside of Troy's fully-stuffed asshole. Having popped his first load, he collapsed on Troy's well-spread thighs, pleased when he heard the bitch groan in discomfort as he was forced to hold up all of Callum's weight with his glutes. Callum was really getting into fucking Troy.

And his pleasure was only heightened when, during his next fuck, he began squeezing the bitch's tits. They seemed particularly sensitive and, after only a few minutes rough work tenderizing them, Troy was squirming in pain, emitting little squeaks on an almost continuous basis. While Callum definitely enjoyed seeing Troy jerk around trying to ease the pain that was flaring from his abused nipples, what he really appreciated was how the waves of pain coursing through the bitch's body were causing his entire back channel to spasmodically squeeze itself around Callum's rampaging fuck-tool. That felt fantastic and, during the rest of his assault on Troy, the receptionist's tender nubs seldom had a moment's respite.

It took Callum three more loads to completely drain his balls and finally quell the sexual excitement that had been building up for the past twenty-four hours. When his cock finally receded from the bitch's battered hole, Callum leaned back on his heels and looked down at Troy. The smirk on the little whore's face had been wiped out early on and his eyes had a glassy sheen. Looking down the boy's torso, Callum was struck by how bruised and swollen Troy's nipples were - they were at least three-times their normal size and actually looked like a bitch's tits - and the chasm that now yawned between Troy's thighs looked every bit like a tired whore's used-up pussy. Callum couldn't help but be pleased with himself: he'd given the faggot a fucking he'd never forget.

Just before he got up from the sofa, Callum was overcome by an irresistible impulse. He leaned forward and gave Troy a peck on the cheek. As he did so, Troy's eyes seemed to refocus and fix on Callum's face, eying him warily. Callum made no effort to hide his own smirk as he thanked Troy for the fuck. "I'm definitely looking forward to the next time," he added with a chuckle. Suddenly, even as he watched, a visible glint came into Troy's eyes. "So am I," he answered, with conviction. "Believe me, so am I."

Surprised by Troy's response, Callum quickly decided that, despite all appearances, the little bitch had actually enjoyed having his body ravaged by Callum. 'Fucking faggots,' Callum thought. 'They really are all little whores.'

Callum eased himself off the sofa and turned around. Mr. DeMarco was sitting behind his desk, a big smile lighting his face. "Now that wasn't so bad, Callum, was it?"

"No, sir," Callum responded with his own grin. "That was great. You were right - as always. Sorry I can be such a problem for you."

"Well, all's well that ends well," Mr. DeMarco replied, obviously once again in a good mood.

The man stood up and moved around the desk. He had Callum's erection trainer in his hand. "Let's get you suited up and you can head on home."

"Yes, sir," Callum replied, assuming the proper position. As he'd expected, this time the plastic sheath slid easily inside and in just seconds his cock was snuggly encased in the trainer's tubing and Mr. DeMarco had locked it securely in place. It still felt a little uncomfortable having the contraption dangling from his body but, day by day, it was beginning to feel totally natural to be wearing it.

Still smiling, Mr. DeMarco looked at his model as he stood there in his 'erection trainer.' "I'll want to see you Monday afternoon after your tanning session on the roof so that I can properly prepare you for your audition. But, right now, why don't you get dressed and head on home. I'm sure you've had a long day."

"Yes, sir," Callum happily agreed, bending down to pick up his running shorts. He quickly stepped into them and then slipped his feet into his flip-flops.

While Callum was putting on his minimalist attire, Mr. DeMarco turned around and picked up a large plastic bag. "Here's your energy supplement, Callum," he explained, passing the bag to the boy. "There's enough to get you through the weekend. You can pick up some more on Monday when you come back."

"Actually, sir," Callum responded, "I was intending to stop by tomorrow - you know, to keep my tan going."

"No need to do that, Callum" Mr. DeMarco reassured him. "Your tan looks great. I don't think taking a few days off is going to adversely affect it. I want you to get a good rest this weekend. Other than going to the gym, I want you to just stay home and relax."

"If you think so, sir," Callum replied, surprised by the unexpected days off. For the past month, at Mr. DeMarco's insistence, he'd been tanning on the office roof virtually every single day. His intensive tanning regimen had pretty much achieved the desired results. His old tan lines were totally gone and he now had a golden overall coloration that really complemented his muscular physique. Looking down at his torso, he thought that maybe he could go a couple of days without working on his tan.

"I'm sure of it," Dean replied, once again hiding his amazement at Callum's apparently limitless naivete. The boy's body had reached the perfect tanning point over a week ago and, since then, the only thing Dean and Troy had been concerned with was maintaining that level. Every third day in the sun was more than sufficient to do that. Though Callum obviously hadn't realized it, on most days Troy was applying a total sun block to Callum's skin and the boy wasn't getting any darker despite all the hours he spent in the sun.

The real reason Dean had insisted that Callum come in every day was to make him undergo daily blowjobs from Troy to continue undermining Callum's visceral antipathy to sex with another man and also to make sure Dean could manipulate his 'energy supplement' on a day-to-day basis, juicing it up when he wanted him hot and horny and then tapering it off on the days after he fucked Kerry, helping Callum begin to associate fucking another man with sexual relief.

Dean was glad it was so easy to manipulate Callum, but it was almost too easy. Of course, the true test was coming up in the next two weeks. While Dean had succeeded in eradicating Callum's objections to topping another dude, the ultimate goal had always been to get him to accept bottoming for a man. After all, giving great blowjobs and getting fucked were what Dean's models were known for and he wanted Callum to become a prime draw in his stable of boy-bitches. And they had now reached the point where that training was about to begin.

Not that Callum had the slightest clue as to what was coming. But that was as it should be. It's what had made Callum such a hot prospect - that and his sculpted physique and movie star looks, of course. Beautiful and dumb - you couldn't ask for anything more. Just thinking what was in store for the boy over the next couple of weeks brought a smile to Dean's face and a tingling to his groin. But he forced himself to re-focus on the present.

"I really want you to take this weekend easy, Callum," Mr. DeMarco repeated. "I want you fresh on Tuesday."

"Well, okay then, sir. See you on Monday, I guess." Callum turned around and started across the room. Just as he reached the door, he turned to look over at the sofa where Troy was still lying down. "Thank you, Troy," he said, with a sincerity that was, for once, unfeigned.

Troy didn't say anything but he did nod in acknowledgement. Feeling on top of the world, Callum opened the door and headed out.

Dean DeMarco watched Callum close the door behind himself. An audible snort made its way out of his mouth. "That kid is simply too much. He is fucking dumb as an oyster. We're doing the world a favor getting him off the streets. And him, too. God only knows what he'd be doing with his life if we weren't here to guide him along." He shook his head in wry amusement. "Dumb as an oyster," he repeated. "But he's going to make one dynamite boy-whore."

"Fuck him," Troy growled from the couch where he was finally beginning to stir. "He's a fucking asshole and I'm going to make him pay for what he did today."

"Well, he certainly did you," Dean observed, never missing a chance to bait his son. "I haven't seen a guy get as totally reamed out as you just did since Davey was gangbanged by eight guys at Thug Studio. Once the video of his session with you hits the website, they're going to be begging me to put your ass up on the auction block."

"Fuck that shit," Troy snarled. "I've told you before, Dad. I don't give a shit how much those assholes are willing to pay for a chance to fuck me. It's not going to happen."

Slowly, obviously still in pain, Troy made his way across the room. "Where you going?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to take a shower and a douche. I'm fucking leaking cum like a sieve right now."

"You just hold up, Troy. Your work here isn't done yet."

Troy looked at his father with real anger. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. You saw how he fucked the living shit out me. I'm sore as hell right now."

"That's not my problem, Troy," his father retorted. "Besides, I like it when you're sore; it makes you more attentive to my needs. So just get your ass over here and bend over. I've got a big load of cum in my gonads and it's got your name on it."

"Ah, come on, Dad," Troy pleaded. "Give me a fucking break."

His father stood there staring at him for a brief moment and then deliberately began undoing his pants.

"Jesus Christ, Dad," Troy complained, slowly edging his way over to the desk. "You can be a real asshole, you know that?"

"You've got that right, son," Dean agreed affably. "I can, indeed, be a real asshole. But right now I'm fixing on fucking a real asshole. Yours. So just get your pretty butt over here and bend down."

As Troy slowly made his way back to his father's desk, a loud fart ripped through his ass accompanied by an effusion of Callum's ball juice, spurting out and dribbling down Troy's hairless legs. "At least let me clean myself out, Dad," Troy asked, clearly embarrassed by his leaking hole. "I'm spewing his ball scuzz all over the place."

"No problem, son," his old man responded with a smile. "You can clean the mess up when I'm finished with you. And look at the bright side," he added as his son glared at him again. "At least you're well-lubed. Now you just bend over and get ready to take some more dick. I'll let you know when you're finished for the day."

Troy knew that further words would be useless so he just did as he was told, trying to ignore the steady stream of spent cum that was now seeping from his aching butt, promising himself that one day - one day soon - he'd pay his father back for everything. And he'd pay Callum back, too, for the number that fucker had done on his ass. They'd both pay and when they did, Troy wouldn't be the one with the sore and leaking butt-hole.