Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2024 22:03:27 -0700
From: gayD <gaydic@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay Twink's Fantasies - chapter 3

Hi guys. Has anyone found it odd that Todd did not join in the sexy orgy
with Todd's soccer team? What do you think that means? All my stories are
published on GayTies.com because many are too intense to be allowed
here. Just the same, we thank Nifty for all their work in operating this
site!

If you want see my profile and photos, search for "Darkforce" on
GayTies.com.

Famous Star Succumbs to Gay Twinks Fantasies

Part 3 of 6

"AAAAGGGGHHHHH," Quentin screamed, and it was for real, but the team
members applauded Quentin for his good acting. The louder he protested and
tried to resist, the more they all laughed. For the next hour, Quentin was
fucked on both ends simultaneously, seemingly by every combination of these
athletes. He had never felt so out of control, violated, or utterly
used. He cried in pain and humiliation as one high school teen after
another raped his ass and mouth.

All the while, Todd, the 16-year-old blackmailer, sat on the sofa and
watched; he seemed to be enjoying the boy orgy in front of him. And while
Quentin was on his hands and knees servicing the whole high school soccer
team as a sex slave, Todd took more photos and videos. Quentin took dick
after dick after dick - no condoms - just loads of boy cum running down
Quentin's throat and up his ass. Teenagers are amazing: they can cum down
your throat and, a few minutes later, cum up your ass too.

Todd especially liked the look of revulsion and pain on Quentin's face. He
could tell he was miserable. After all, he had been stripped in front of a
bunch of guys, most 20 years younger than him. Then he was forced to say he
was a faggot who enjoyed sucking and being fucked by their cocks. This was
humiliating and degrading, but Todd would now -- obviously - let him go
after this.

Todd smiled. It served the little fucking arrogant boyband bastard
right. When all the boys were through, Todd stood up and said, "Okay, guys,
I promised you, Quentin, and you promised me $50 bucks apiece. Pay up."

Meanwhile, Quentin lay in a lump on the floor, covered in cum. His ass
ached, his jaw ached, and his dick and balls were sore from being
manhandled; he could still feel the cum in his ass oozing out. He felt
miserable and thoroughly violated - he just wanted to get out of there and
never see any of these little bastards again. As he lay there, he watched
the boy find their pants and fish cash out the money to pay Todd. It made
no sense: Quentin had given Todd $10,000 yesterday and was getting him
$500,000 today -- so why was he now demanding more money from these kids?
Probably because he knew it would just make Quentin hate himself even more
- Todd had turned him into a prostitute to serve the entire team.

"Okay `superstar,' get up. Your playtime is over." Todd said as all the
guys applauded and cheered. But there was a mix of feelings amongst the
teens: some of these guys hated Quentin for being a phony who presented
himself on the world stage as a straight, high-class celebrity, but others
truly believed this was Quentin's secret fantasy which he wanted to live
out, and so they were happy to help him by fucking him over good.

Quentin slowly stood up to get dressed. "Whoa, who said you can get
dressed? You're fine as you are. You know you are a horny, perverted
exhibitionist, so, no need to pretend you have any modesty now." The team
applauded and cheered, thinking Quentin loved this humiliation.

Todd went to the door and out onto the front porch with naked Quentin at
his side. All the boys, now fully clothed, joined Todd and Quentin outside
in view of everyone passing by. He was the only one naked.

"Ok, fag, we all know how you acted like these were the first dicks you
ever got shoved in your holes, but now it's time to go. Now, speak up and
tell everyone you are grateful for this experience. Tell us all the sleazy
details about what you just did with these high school athletes."

Quentin fully understood what Todd wanted him to say. There was no doubt
about that, but Quentin didn't notice that Todd had stepped back, taken his
cell out, and was now recording a video of Quentin's little goodbye speech
on the pouch.

Quentin began to stumble through his words - he couldn't control himself
any longer and suddenly burst out in tears that the teens mistakenly
understood to be tears of joy, so they all cheered as Quentin turned and
walked down the driveway. Then Todd embraced Quentin and petted him like a
big puppy, "It's OK. We all understand how you enjoyed acting out your slut
fantasy. We can go now."

As Todd walked Quentin to the Jeep (that Jeep that used to be his), Quentin
completely broke down. In a weepy-whisper to Todd, he said, "I am so
fucking sorry for anything I ever did to you. I am so fucking
sorry. Please, please, just let this be over. Anything, anything I have in
the whole fucking world is yours, all of it, but please, in the name of
God, please, Todd - I am fucking begging you, please just end this now."

Todd's reaction came as a surprise; he smiled broadly and ruffled Quentin's
hair as one does as a sign of affection to a little boy. On the drive home,
Quentin quietly sat in the Jeep's passenger seat, thinking he must have
pleased Todd. He had made Todd look powerful and important to all his
soccer buddies, and Quentin was sure that made Todd very happy and
content. Todd was now the big man on campus. He had shown everyone that he
had power over the number-one singing sensation in the world. Yes, that
little pat on the head said it all. Because of that, Quentin felt sure this
would all end soon, and he didn't care what it would cost him - he would
gladly pay any amount. Oh, fuck, what relief he began to feel!

Then, finally, Todd broke the silence. "That was fun. It's gonna be great
traveling with you! We can have that kind of fun every night - find great
parties in every city, whore out your fucking ass. God, this is going to be
a great summer!" Quentin just sat in the Jeep, staring into the distance,
and again began weeping and shaking his head.

After that day, Quentin was left alone for a few days. It had only been a
week since Quentin had first met Todd, but it seemed like years. Todd did
indeed join the tour, and he never left Quentin's side. All the band
members noticed that Quentin looked miserable. Eric, the keyboardist, tried
to talk to him, but Quentin just wanted to be left alone, except that he
was never alone because Todd was always there. The other members of XHeight
were bewildered by Todd's constant presence, viewing him as an odd boy and
completely out of place among them. Certainly, they thought, he had no
business with the group on their tour.

And then, one day when XHeight had the day off, Todd showed up at Quentin's
door. "Come on, boy, let's blow this joint. Let's see what fun we can have
in the city."

Quentin followed Todd to the Jeep without asking any questions, got in, and
rode for 20 minutes. Eventually, they pulled up in front of a tattoo
parlor.

"This is fucking perfect. Oh yeah, so totally cool." Todd seemed very
excited. "What kind of tattoo should we get for you, boy? And where do you
want it? Gosh, so many choices."

"Look, Todd, be reasonable. I've been good. I've done what you wanted, but
this is permanent. You can't permanently disfigure me." Quentin explained,
looking intently at Todd.

"Disfigure? Who said anything about disfigurement? I promise it will be
tasteful. I mean, I'm not going to make you get `FUCK ME' tattooed on your
ass, although that could be fun, too! Naw, let's do something more
refined. Let's see, I think you need to have `SLUT' tattooed on your arm,"
Todd said with great glee as they entered the ink parlor.

Todd turned to the tattoo guy. "Can you tattoo the word `SLUT' in big
letters just below his shoulder?"

"Yeah, no problem," the guy said, "What color do you want?"

Todd was almost giddy with excitement. "You got a favorite color, boy? Oh,
God, wait, it's got to be green! I want the tattoo to perfectly match your
eyes! That would be so fucking cool." Todd looked back to the tattoo
guy. "Can you make it match?"

"Yeah, sure. Okay, boy, take off your shirt," the tattoo guy said.

Quentin listened to all of this, totally unbelieving it. Shit, giving Todd
money wasn't too bad - Quentin had more than he could ever spend. The gang
fuck was horrible, but at least it only lasted a couple of hours, and
Quentin knew he was strong; his parents had taught him to survive the tough
times, which had kept him going for the past nine days. He knew this shit
with Todd would end soon, and he could return to his life. A tattoo,
however, was a different thing. That would be forever ... on his arm? How
would he ever explain that? Quentin stared at Todd. Surely this was a joke.

"You heard the man, you little slut. Take off your shirt so you can be
marked so that everyone can see that you are just a little faggot SLUT."
Todd said menacingly. "Take your shirt off now, or I'll fucking rip it off,
and then everyone will see your tattoo when we leave."

Quentin realized that he wasn't kidding. Shit, this was going to happen!
Quentin looked around, saw the needles, saw the patterns. His heart sank as
he slipped his T-shirt off. He wasn't built, but neither was he embarrassed
by his chest; he always wore sleeveless shirts in concert. He knew people
stared at him, but today, he felt like a piece of meat as he stood in the
tattoo shop, shirtless, with Todd and the tattoo guy staring at him,
discussing the color and style of the tattoo as if Quentin weren't even
there.

It hurt a lot as the tattoo was slowly inked on. The letters were almost
three inches tall in bright green ink. `SLUT.' It covered the top of his
right upper arm. He knew he would never be able to go shirtless or wear a
sleeveless shirt in concert again. He would have to change his wardrobe for
the concerts in the future.

Shit, it hurt. His arm throbbed, and he felt cold sitting in the shop
without a shirt for over an hour. When it was finally done, he looked at
his arm in the mirror. Oh fuck. This was so horrid!

"Pay the man, you little SLUT," Todd laughed. If it wasn't bad enough that
he had been permanently marked, now Todd was making him pay for it!

"Alright, boy, we have more stops to make. We need to find something new
for you to wear for your performances. How about we go to an S and M
leather shop?" Todd said, then quickly added, "Just kidding." Todd smiled.

Quentin's heart began to beat faster. He knew he had to change his
wardrobe, but XHeight always had similarly-themed clothing on stage. He'd
just have to explain to the group that he wanted this new look, whatever
that would be. And besides, he was the leader of XHeight.

When they stopped, Quentin's heart began to beat even faster: they were at
a leather fetish store. "Okay, SLUT, let's go get something for you."

"But ... but ... you said ... you were kidding. You said ..."

Todd was having great fun pulling things off the shelf in the store and
holding them up. There were about 15 guys in the store, mostly
middle-aged. They were whispering, pointing at Quentin - he had been
recognized. One guy, all dressed in leather and wearing motorcycle boots,
came over. "You're Quentin from XHEIGHT, right? I've always thought you'd
look good in leather gear. I think it's you, or at least it should be
you. I'd love to make you my slave boy."

Quentin looked disgusted. "Look, just leave me alone, okay? I don't want
any trouble."

"Come on, Quentin, be nice to the man. I think you owe him an apology. Say
you're sorry, Quentin." Todd demanded. The leatherman was aghast that the
twink teenager told the biggest superstar what to do. It was now obvious to
him that the teen was the Master, and the big-man singing idol was the
sub-slave.

Quentin looked demoralized. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"I don't think that's good enough. You need to show this nice man that you
are really sorry. Beg the nice man to forgive you." Todd ordered, smiling.

Quentin's head dropped. He stared at the ground. "I'm really sorry. Please
accept my apology. Please forgive me, Sir."

The man looked at Quentin and smiled. "You've got him trained pretty
well. I always guessed he was a fucking bottom boy, like all those queer
band guys. You fuck his ass?"

Todd smiled even bigger. "Naw, not really MY thing. But HE loves to take it
hard and rough up the ass, don't you, boy?"

Quentin still stared at the ground. "Yes, Sir. I like to take it up the
ass."

"Hey, Quentin, show the nice man your new tattoo!"

Quentin slowly pulled off his shirt, and Todd made him unwrap this
upper-arm bandage to show off his new green `SLUT' tattoo.

"That's great! Have you also considered writing `SLAVE' across his
forehead? I wish I could make my boy get a tattoo!" the man said.

"It's elementary. Quentin begged me to let him get it, didn't you, boy?"
Todd said, poking Quentin's side.

"Yeah," Quentin whispered.

The man reached out and grabbed Quentin's brown nipples. "So, Quentin
Quartz is a total SLUT." He began to lightly twist the nipples in his
fingers.

Quentin's face contorted in pain. His arm still hurt, and now his nipples
were pinched and twisted hard; he felt helpless as the other men in the
store gathered around to watch.

"Come on, say it! Show all these real men how a good boy behaves." The man
ordered.

"I'm a slut." Quentin said, "Please, it hurts, please."

"Please, what?" the man demanded.

"Please, Sir, it hurts," Quentin answered.

"Not what I was going for," Todd said. "You like that, remember?"

"I mean, please hurt me more. Pinch harder, Sir, oh yeah." Now Quentin was
nearly crying.

"Yeah, boy, it's supposed to hurt. It shows a boy how to behave in front of
a real man. Don't ever forget it, SLUT," the leather man said and then spat
in Quentin's face before letting go and moving away.

"Hey, this is a cool place. Well, I wish we could stay and play, but we
still have errands to run. Maybe we can play some other time!" Todd said to
the men watching.

"Yeah, that would be hot," the man at the counter answered. "Bring your boy
around anytime. I'll show him how to behave." The man stared at Quentin as
they headed to the register. Todd had picked out a tight pair of very old
Levis and an interesting cock and ball harness ring for Quentin. Quentin
paid, and they left.

The next day, just before the concert, Todd met Quentin in his dressing
room. Todd unwrapped Quentin's arm; the tattoo had turned out well. The
bright green letters were outlined in black, making them stand out sharply
against his arm.

Todd seemed happy. "Shit, they did a good job. It really does match your
eyes!"

All of Quentin's normal wardrobe was laid out for the concert, but Todd
told Quentin to ignore it. Todd then made Quentin strip naked, then pulled
out the fancy cock and ball harness. It was the type that encircled the
balls, separating each, as well as encircled the dick. The black leather
and the chrome ring stood out perfectly. It took a while, but it went on
very snugly. Todd put his finger in Quentin's mouth to steal a glob of his
spit, then he rubbed it on his wrapped-up dick. Quentin had a major boner
when Todd handed him the ragged jeans. "Here, boy, here's your fucking
costume for the night."

No way did Quentin want to wear those torn-up pants, especially on stage,
but he was stuck, so he grabbed a pair of boxers to put on first. "WHO TOLD
YOU TO PUT ON UNDERWEAR?" Todd yelled.

With shaking hands, Quentin took the pants, which were so full of holes
that there were almost more holes than material. He sat on the sofa and
tried to pull the super-tight jeans on, but when he pulled, they almost
tore, so he had to be very careful. He held one pant leg open and tried to
shove his bare foot into it, but it was difficult because the pants were
tapered to fit very tightly around the ankles. Quentin's bare ass rubbed
against the sofa as he struggled with first one leg, then the other. Once
he was in and the pants were up to his knees, he had further difficulty
getting them up over his bubble butt. Todd watched Quentin's chest and arms
flex as he struggled with the tight jeans. Eventually, the toes on his
right foot poked out; his size ten foot arced and followed his wiggling
toes. His left foot followed via the same ordeal. Finally, he yanked the
waist up and over his crotch and hard cock.

The jeans were several sizes too small, and they fit like a second skin,
and with all the holes, you saw a lot of his first skin! Quentin managed to
wiggle his thin hips into the jeans, which now indecently showed off his
tightly curved ass. Worse, his hard cock was clearly outlined. And the
pants were so low cut that the pubic hair above his dick was showing, and
the top of his ass crack was barely concealed. After getting them on and
buttoned, he realized that the jeans were entirely worn through in places -
you could see the bottom of his ass cheeks and his thighs just below his
crotch. Both knees were worn through.

"Come on, Todd, no way management will let me go out like this! There is no
way you can make this happen!" Quentin argued.

"Fuck management. When you show up right as the curtain goes up, do you
think they will cancel the concert if you don't change? You think they are
willing to lose all that money? There'd be a fucking riot from the fans!
You look perfect! All ready to go!"

"Ready to go?"

Quentin looked around for his shirt, any shirt. "What about the rest of my
clothes?" Quentin said in a panic.

"Nope, that's it from now on; your new costume is just these jeans. You
guys are such fucking cock teasers anyway. It's about time you show some
skin. There is no shirt, just this thin layer of worn jeans between you and
your fans. It will be good for all of you."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Two minutes to curtain,
Mr. Quartz, please."

Quentin's mind raced. He looked at himself in the mirror and looked obscene
- everything showed. He couldn't go on stage like this. Shit. His ass, his
dick, everything could be seen through the jeans. He felt almost naked. He
had never performed without a shirt before, and what about the tattoo?

"Ok, fuck! Ok, where are my shoes and what color socks do ..." Quentin was
cut off.

"Nope, no shoes, no socks, just as you are. It's a come-as-you-are-party!"
Todd giggled.

Quentin had never tried to dance barefoot. Shit, could he make it through
all the moves with his bare feet jumping around on the cold stage?

Todd grabbed Quentin by the arm and quickly hurried him down the hall to
the stage entrance. Then, unceremoniously, he pushed him immediately onto
the stage. Eric immediately glared, saying only, "WHAT?" It caused all four
members of XHeight to look at him in shock, but there was no time for
anyone to comment or to resist the start of the performance. The crowd
cheered as the curtain went up.

The other XHeight members started playing the first song's opening
bars. Quentin stood at the mic wearing only a pair of really ratty jeans
that looked like they were made for a 15-year-old. JC, the lead guitarist,
wondered where the hell his shirt and shoes were and what the hell was that
on his arm? SLUT? Oh shit, this was too fucking weird. Quentin was supposed
to be the conservative one, the brains of the band, who held them all
together during times of disagreement.

"What the fuck is this?" Eric yelled as the music got louder.

"Please, just leave me alone - I'm changing my look," Quentin mumbled as
the guys burst forward and began dancing their number. The crowd went
wild. The JumboTron operators weren't sure what to make of Quentin's new
look; should they do close-ups of him? Of his chest? Of the obvious outline
of his cock? Of the bright green SLUT tattoo?

Quentin just closed his eyes and went through the dance steps as he had
every other night, singing his parts. His bare feet felt odd on the cold
stage, but he kept with the beat. He felt indecent, especially because of
the younger fans in the audience. When it was his turn to do his solo part,
the girls screamed. It had to be obvious that everyone up-close was staring
at his sweaty chest, bare feet, bulging crotch, and the patch of light
brown pubic hair proudly displayed just above his super-low-fitting
jeans. The pubic hair accented that the top fly button never closed
properly and couldn't be refastened. His small brown nipples were erect,
standing out from his chest.

After the introductory song and dance, it was his moment to thank the huge
crowd for coming. "Um, thanks for coming tonight. You're a great crowd."
But no one could hear him. He had never heard screams like this before. He
was nervous and terrified of being the focus of attention dressed like
this, but the audience went crazy.

To be continued....

So, Quentin is changing his look. It is going to fly with the band members?
It is going to be a hit with the audiences? And will Todd stop all his
meanness?

Todd has really gotten his hooks into Quentin Quartz. Tell me what you
think. Will he recover? How? Write me, Bruce Darkforce at gaydic@gmail.com