Date: Sat, 11 Jun 2016 21:40:39 +0300
From: Jack Pinkerton <jack.b.pink@yandex.com>
Subject: How Hunter Got Into Show Business Ch 08

How Hunter Got Into Show Business Chapter 08, Mb
By Jack B Pink (jack.b.pink@yandex.com)
http://www.asstr.org/~JackBPink/
Codes: Mb(10), mf (minor), MF (minor), Crazy-ass Dream

Please be aware that this story describes, in erotic detail, sexual
interactions between males and between adults and minors (both over and
under 14). The author vehemently discourages and condemns any sort of
adult-child abuse including sexual abuse - even if all parties involved are
"consenting" at the time. Seriously. It's not worth destroying a child's
life to get off. Just read these harmless stories.

This story is meant solely for entertainment purposes, not
instruction. Please do yourself a favor and DON'T harm or abuse any real
children.

The characters and events depicted in this story are completely
fabrications and in no way relate to real people or real events. Any
appearance of similarity to real persons or events is completely
coincidental.

***I thrive on feedback. If you enjoy this or any of my other stories, I'd
love to hear from you. If I made you cum, let me know (consider it payment
;) ).***

--

Mr. Parish watched as his ten-year-old son twirled his spaghetti lazily
around his fork. The boy's head was leaned against his propped up
hand. Hunter had been unusually quiet since the talent agent, Mr. Juiles
dropped him off from that worrisome overnight party.

Mr. Parish looked at his wife whose brow was furrowed in worry. He knew
what she was thinking. She'd revealed her fears to him shortly after the
gave him over to Mr. Juiles' custody the night before. He assured her
Hunter would be fine. Sure they knew there was going to be some drugs and
alcohol, but this was a Hollywood party and everyone participated. Hell, to
calm their nerves, the Parishes had broken onto their own special cookies
stash.

But she was worried that someone might take sexual advantage of her only
child. Her son. Her baby. Mr. Parish had reassured her that this was
ridiculous, that he wasn't going to a Catholic Mass, just a networking
party. But he secretly, too, shared that worry that his child who looked so
much like himself as a child, had entered the lions den to be cheap meat
for the Hollywood elite.

Now that Hunter was back, the father's fears had increased. Hunter was so
introspective and so quiet, he knew something had happened. He pictured the
worst in his mind: his ten-year-old son hanging naked in a filthy gay sex
swing while a gang of disgusting diseased perverts raped him all night. The
thought made his heart seize and his anger seethe.

But he did his best to hide it, so as not to panic his son or distress his
fragile wife. But he needed to know.

After dinner, Mr. Parish put his wife to bed with a generous glass of red
wine to help her sleep. Every time she looked at Hunter, she almost broke
down. Thank God Hunter was too distracted to notice.

Hunter was also in bed when Mr. Parish went to check on him. But he wasn't
asleep. He sat up, staring off into space.

"Hey, Bud," Mr. Parish said as he sat on the edge of Hunter's bed, "How you
doing? You've barely said a word all day." He was trying to be casual and
hoped it didn't sound too forced.

"I've just had a lot on my mind," his son said, snapping focus to him as if
breaking a trance.

"Tell me," Mr. Parish said gently, "Maybe I can help."

It looked like his boy was going to lie to him, but said, "It just- it just
wasn't what I was expecting."

Mr. Parish's paternal instincts kicked into high gear. "Did they hurt you?"
He tried to keep the fury out of his voice, but knew he failed.

Hunter didn't notice, though. "No. It was just weird. The other kids were
acting like adults and everyone was drinking and laughing and..." but then
Hunter stopped talking and looked at his dad. "Things don't always happen
like you expect, do they?"

Mr. Parish was caught off guard by the rush of words that came out of his
son's lips. He swallowed hard to give himself time to organize his thoughts
and decide what to say. "No," he finally answered his son, "they almost
never do. If they did something bad to you," he continued trying to pry
abuse out of his son, "you need to tell me."

"They didn't hurt me, Dad." The boy snapped back.

Mr. Parish stared at his son, not really believing him.

"It's just...there's a lot more about show business than I thought. That's
all."

"Son..." Mr. Parish began but Hunter interrupted.

"I have school tomorrow, I should get some sleep."

Mr. Parish took the hint and left his son in the dark room alone, going to
bed with dark thoughts in his head.

* * *

It seemed like forever, but Hunter finally succumbed to sleep. But it
wasn't a peaceful sleep.

Giant erect penises kept slapping his face, jutting in his stomach,
knocking him over. He scrambled up and realized he was naked. He ran.

He was running down a plain white hall. Like in a hospital. Bright. But it
was if he was standing in place. He ran faster, but didn't move.

He turned. The hall looks the same that way. He turned again and
again. Finally he pushed through a doorway.

Suddenly he was on a large mound. Dotting the pale tan mound were scraggly
protrusions, like dried plant trunks with no branches or leaves. But they
were much darker. He looked up the mound. Then back behind him. The mound
fell away into darkness so he climbed.

The ground wasn't soil, but some spongy material. It made it hard to climb,
but not impossible. He used the odd protrusions as hand holds to pull
himself higher. As he neared the top, Hunter found the grade of the slope
lessened and he was able to run so he did. He sprinted through the forest
of dark branches brambles that curled around each other. They looked really
familiar, but Hunter couldn't place it.

Hunter finally rounded the top and looked across a crevasse to see an
identical mound. He slowed. Something about this seemed so familiar. It
nagged him as he strolled forward staring at the second mound.

Suddenly, a musky odor hit him in the face. It was so strong he staggered
as if physically struck. The odor was coming from the crevasse separating
the two hills. His naked legs trembled and a wave of vertigo crashed over
him.

The naked preteen was helpless as he fell forward. End over end he tumbled
into the crevasse. The scraggly protrusions grew thicker. The protrusions
from the other mound curled into those from his mound. But they didn't stop
his fall. He flew through them as the smell, somehow familiar, grew
stronger.

The he saw the bottom. The mounds came together at a crease. In the middle
of that crease was a ringed line. Hunter landed on that line and found it
soft. Hunter pushed his hands at the sides of the two mounds to push
himself to his feet. He found them moist and warm. The smell was now
overpowering. He looked down at the line and gasped, recognizing it.

A sphincter. An anus. A butt hole.

He was standing on a butt hole. He closed his mouth tight to hold his
breath, knowing he should be disgusted. But that smell didn't seem to be
ass or poo or farts. But it was recognizable. Nutty and salty. Like balls.

His chest burned and he had to gasp air and musk in. His mouth filled with
the flavor. It tasted just like Mr. Millson's scrotum. He gasped desperate
for air, filling his lungs, his nose, his mouth with Millson scrotum
pheromones.

Below his feet trembled. He looked down and saw his feet disappearing
inside the giant asshole. He reached out and scrambled his hands against
the butt crack walls. But the smooth muscle around his ankles pulled him
in. The heat rose up his legs. The tightness. The preteen struggled to get
out, but his calves disappeared inside the giant orifice. Then his knees
and thighs. When his little boy balls and erect penis were swallowed,
Hunter moaned. The painful pleasure squeezing his parts distraceted him
momentarily from his plight. But when the moist heat got to his belly he
gasped, his breath being forced from him. His hands were still slipping,
trying to push him out, but failing. One hand slipped and enterd the giant
hole. Then the other and Hunter knew he was truly helpless.

But still he fought. He squirmed trying to wriggle out. He was engulfed in
ass up to his nipples when a wet glob soaked his head. He shook his head at
the viscous goo and looked up. A giant penis was bearing down on the
struggling boy trapped in the giant anus. The cock leaked clear pre
dripping on the boy's upturned face, covering it, pooling around him. The
massive penis aproached, then was pushing firmly against the little boy's
head. Hunter could feel the pressure against his head, down his spine. The
penis forecd the boy quicker into the hungry ass. Soon, the pool of pre was
flowing into the boy's mouth. He felt the sphincter muscles at his neck,
choking him. Then they were at his chin. He tried to turn his head up to
keep his nose and mouth in the air, but the cock was there pushing against
his face.

And he was falling again. Tumbling into infinite darkness.

Something plush stopped him. He was laying on his back. He opened his eyes
and smiled. Between his legs, Hunter saw the hairy dark torso of
Mr. Millson, kneeling and naked. Erect.

Hunter watched as the man's hairy knuckles cuffed his slender smooth
ankles. He relaxed and let the man spread and lift his legs
open. Mr. Millson walked on his knees to the boy's invitation. The man's
hairy core filled Hunter's vision, framed by his white slender legs, with
only his boy erection interrupting the dark maleness of the man.

Hunter felt the pressure against his tight asshole. It was the same
pressure that fat man, Le'Strata, had made him feel. But this time, the
pressure didn't stop. Mr. Millson's prick pushed in, the pressure
increased, then relaxed as Hunter's sphincter relenteted and swallowed the
adult penis hole.

The boy saw stars as waves of electric pleasure eminating from his dialated
anus. Once he took a moment to recover, Hunter looked down at the body
between his legs. The hairly bulk that was taking him. He saw his own hard
boydick lost in a forest of pubic hair.

Then the man leaned over him. Hunter's face rubbed in the hairy chest
hair. And the man started pumping. Started fucking. Hunter felt every
curve, every ridge, every bump, every vein of the man inside him. Every
thurst sent sparks through his young body as his sexuality was forcefully,
but willingly, awakened. As the man ground into his anal canal, his own
penis was grinding against the man. The pleasure waves throbbing from his
hole were so strong, Hunter didn't even feel his own maleness aching for
pleasure.

The man's thrusting suddenly increased and Hunter could feel the prick
inside him throb. With each throb, the dick grew, and Hunter felt the jets
fill him. He felt his stomach bulge as the man's seed sprayed gallons up
his ass. Hunter could feel the seed flow through him, his own boyish
pleasure seeping along with the predosexual sperm. It left his ass and
worked its way to his belly, filling him with a warm, bubbly feeling. Then
worked to his front and Hunter felt the pleasure coalese in his tiny
penis. He felt the jism force its way up through his urethra and he was
cumming. Ejaculating. Hunter's penis spewed jets of white man cream.

* * *

The ten-year-old boy moaned as the dream left him. He didn't realize it,
but a smile was plastered on his face. His eyes opened to the bright
morning sun. Memories of the dream hadn't faded, but reality quickly grew
in. Hunter's eyes shot wide. He sat up in bed, throwing the covers from his
sweaty boy body, looking down at his crotch. There was a small damp
spot. Had he actually had his first wet dream? About Mr. Millson?

* * *

Mr. Parish watched his Hunter walk up to the school. He frowned,
recognizing a more sedate boy than normal. He knew he had to do something
to help him, but didn't know what. But he knew who he should go to to
start.

* * *

Augustus Juiles sipped his bourbon delicately in the bright mid-morning
Hollywood sun as he watched the twins. Ashton and Zoey Manson posed for the
final few shots for the teen-bop magazine. The two child stars were dressed
in revealing but trendy bathing suits and really knew how to work the
camera. He smiled as he watched them, but was interrupted by his phone.

Mr. Juiles almost didn't answer, but knew Charlie wouldn't let the call
through unless it was important. Sighing, he tapped the screen. "What?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," came Charlie's delicate voice through the
handset, "Mr. Parish, Hunter's daddy, is on the line and he seems angry."

Mr. Juiles sighed again as Zoey leaned over in front of her twin
brother. This shit again. Ashton was pulling down his sister's bikini,
revealing her anus, then her bald snatch. The photographer had switched to
his other camera. The one for the teen-fuck magazine.

"Hello, this is Augustus Juiles."

"Mr. Juiles, this is Hunter Parish's father. I was hoping for a few minutes
of your time." Zoey had her brother's hair in her hand and was pulling his
face into her fourteen-year-old pussy. Even from this distance, Mr. Juiles
could see the sheen of her juices on his face.

"Of course, Mr. Parish. What's on your mind?"

The voice on the other end hesitated. "I want to know what happened to
Hunter at Brendan Bailey's." The photographer was pulling off Ashton's
trunks, revealing the metsl chastity cage confining the boy's cock.

"Oh, we just talked and worked through some lines. And, of course, a few
actor's exercises." Mr. Juiles lied and let concern slip into his
voice. "Why? Is everything okay with Hunter?"

"Well... he's been acting strange. Withdrawn."

"Ah, say no more. I know exactly what you mean. Hunter is overwhelmed. One
thing we talked about over breakfast yesterday was what it meant to be
famous. He is probably struggling with what that means for him." There was
silence on the other end and Mr. Juiles gazed over at the brother and
sister's insestuous sex. She was now lounging on a deck chair and he was
between her legs, still eating her out. Her head was thrown back and the
photographer circled.

"Tell you what," Mr. Juiles said as if suddenly coming up with an idea, "I
have a councelor on call. I'll have Charlie set up an appointment with her
and Hunter. What time is he out of school?"

Releif flooded Mr. Parish's voice. "Thank you. He's done at 2:40. Where
should I take him?"

"Oh, I'll just have Charlie drive him. I'll also have him call you back
with Dr. Mandy's info. So you can do your due dilligence."

Mr. Juiles hung up just as thirty-three year old woman walked up to him
naked. Her tan body was flawless. Her boobs perfect. Completely fake. She
was six months pregnant with Mr. Juile's baby boy. It took them three
abotions, but finally, he was getting his own heir. The twins had stopped
and looked over at the adults disapprovingly. Mr. Juiles smiled at them as
he entered their mother.

--

Thanks for reading. I can be contacted at jack.b.pink@yandex.com.

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