Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2024 20:17:13 -0700 From: gayD Subject: Gay Twink's Fantasies - chapter 4 Hi guys, That little fucker, Todd, seems to have no boundaries. We will see. Famous Star Succumbs to Gay Twinks Fantasies Part 4 of 6 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. When the concert ended, he immediately rushed off the stage, down the hall, and out of the building, stopping for no one. He couldn't bear to face the guys or the management. He just wanted to be alone. The guys were furious. JC, in particular, was overwhelmed with anger and very confused. What the hell was Quentin trying to do? The group's success depended on each one of them. Had he gone crazy? They had always respected each other, but had Quentin just turned himself into a total slut? And to make matters worse, he wouldn't even talk to them or return their calls - he just showed up minutes before each concert and went on stage. The guys were totally pissed. After that first embarrassing show, Quentin decided to lay low, causing the press to think he was recovering from an illness. A few XHeight concerts had to be canceled, but a few went on without Quentin, all of which was a big mess for the band. However, for Quentin, all his energy was directed to either doing what Todd wanted him to do or reasoning with him to end all this social and sexual misery. Miraculously, Todd actually did leave him alone for a couple of days. But then suddenly, Todd showed up at Quentin's place one mid-morning and pounded on the door. When Quentin opened it, he was shocked to see Todd again and again without warning. Now what? "Okay, it's showtime!" Todd said as he walked in. "You have an appointment in 30 minutes downtown. Let's go." "But I need to shower, to change, and I have to be at ...," Quentin couldn't argue with Todd and was immediately yanked out the door and escorted to the Jeep. "No buts about it - you need to get to Playgirl right now. They want to photograph you for their cover and maybe their centerfold. Those slacks look fine." When they arrived at the Playgirl office, the receptionist looked up. Todd smiled. "Mr. Quentin Quartz of XHEIGHT is here for his photo shoot," Todd announced loudly. Quentin turned deep red. He looked around to see who might have heard, and then he just stared at his feet, unable to make eye contact with anyone. He was mortified. "Yes, Mr. Green is expecting you. Please go right in," she said, pointing toward the hallway behind her. Todd and Quentin walked down the hall, where they were greeted by a young man. "Hey Quentin, it's a great pleasure to meet you. You can't believe how happy everyone was when we heard you agreed to pose and be on the cover. You know that you will be the centerfold this month, don't you?" Quentin just looked at his feet. Todd jumped in. "Don't be rude, Quentin." Then he turned to the young assistant, adding, "He's a little shy. Well, let's get this started." The assistant smiled, obviously eager to see Quentin naked. "Right. Mr. Green has everything set up in his studio right down here," she said, leading Quentin and Todd down the hall. The studio wasn't large, but about ten guys were there setting up lights and umbrella reflectors and staging a few pieces of furniture. The photographer, Dave Green, was giving directions. When Quentin walked in, everyone stopped and applauded. "Welcome, Quentin. This is a very great pleasure! I'm really looking forward to working with you." Dave Green said. Quentin, a 38-year-old international singing star in the sensational boy band XHeight, mumbled: "Yeah, it's good to meet you, too." Dave looked at Todd. "Are you going to stay? You look a bit young ..." Todd quickly responded, "Hey, I'm Quentin's manager. You want Quentin. You get me. Understand?" "No problem. Whatever Quentin needs, we will make it happen." Mr. Green answered. "Well, let's get going. Quentin, the changing room is just through there, so if you can get undressed, we can start." Quentin's shoulders drooped as he slowly walked to the changing room. He shut the door, sat down, and untied his shoes. Fuck, what the hell was going on? Was he going to strip, go out naked in front of a room of strangers, and let them take photographs for a major magazine? All of his fans would see him naked - young girls and boys would look at their role model spread out and naked. Old guys would whack off looking at his dick. Oh fuck, how could this be happening? How could he get out of it? But he knew he couldn't as he slowly pulled off his socks and shirt. There was a full-length mirror on the wall. Quentin watched himself as he unzipped his slacks and stood in the room wearing only his gray boxer briefs. Then, those were also discarded, leaving him naked. Todd, the 16-year-old blackmailer, had made him shave his balls and his chest and trim the hair on his crotch; he was now totally smooth except for the very short hair above his dick, and he felt ridiculous. His chest was not huge, but it was well-defined. He looked at the SLUT tattoo on his arm and wondered if that would be seen in the photographs. He was a good-looking guy. Lots of girls wanted him, and lots of guys too. He was also an intensively private celebrity - he hated for other people to know the private details of his life. Can you get any less private than this? Oh fuck, what would the guys think when they found out? Eric had already taken him aside and told him to shape the fuck up, or they would throw him out. Would this ruin his career? Shit, what would his parents and family think? They were all very religious and thought pornography was the devil's work. Quentin ... on the cover of Playgirl? He knew he would never be able to face his mother again. He wanted to die. He sat on the bench and began to cry. "Hey, hurry up. Everyone is waiting," Todd yelled as he banged on the dressing room door. Quentin stood up and looked at himself in the mirror again. How did this happen? He dried his face and opened the door. Todd's face was beaming as Quentin stood in the doorway bare-assed naked. "Come on, boy, everyone is waiting. The whole world is about to see all of you." Quentin was completely humiliated as Dave asked him to lay on the sofa and began to position his dick so it lay on his thigh. Quentin never liked other people touching his junk, so to have this guy who he had met just minutes ago manipulate the position of his dick was unbearable. Just visualize it: the guy placed his dick up on Quentin's belly, then on one thigh, then on the other, then back to his belly. He had never felt more like an inhuman piece of meat than now. But Quentin did as he was told as this room full of guys ogled his naked body. He had never felt so exposed in his life. Dave tried to make him feel comfortable, telling him how the camera loved him, the light made his dick look magnificent, and how happy he would make millions of people feel. Shit, millions of people were going to see Quentin naked. He felt horrible. "Okay, we need some hard shots, Quentin. Can you jack yourself a little so I can get some good erect shots?" Dave innocently asked. Quentin looked around and realized he was expected to jack off in front of all these random guys. Fuck, what could be more humiliating? Quentin looked at Todd, who just smiled bigger and bigger. Quentin sat up, his bare feet brushing against the cold floor. He slowly grabbed his dick and started to rub. He closed his eyes. He could feel the blood rushing to his face as he began the slow rhythm of jacking his cock. He was only seven inches when erect, which always felt a little small to him for a superstar. However, that had always been his business. Now, it would be the business of millions of people worldwide. Shit, he was jacking faster now and was now getting fully hard. He spread his legs, curled his toes, and jerked harder. He kept thinking, "Please let this be over soon!". "Okay, you're looking pretty good. Keep your knees spread, and put your arms out to your sides. Let's get some good photos of you hard and spread." Dave said this as if it were an everyday experience. Quentin looked into the camera with his arms spread out to the side, his legs spread, sitting on the sofa with his cock rock-hard. Click, click, click. The camera action never seemed to end. Dave must have taken a thousand photos during the session. "We can't take too many pictures. After all, how often do you get Quentin Quartz to agree to pose nude?" Dave said as he continued to take more pictures. "Okay, let's get you on your hands and knees, legs spread, dick hard. Look into the camera. Smile! Now look sexy - look like you want to have really wild, dirty sex right now. Show off your beautiful `SLUT' tattoo. Look into the camera with your best `fuck me' look in your eyes." Dave bantered on as he clicked. "Now let's get some good ass shots. Look over your shoulder. Look into the camera; let's see your face begging me to fuck your asshole.
I want the camera to know that you need it bad. You need a hard cock right now. Come on, Quentin, show me the lust. Show me your best `take me hard, take me rough' look. Give me your `I'm a SLUT boy, and I need to be taught a lesson' look. Give me a good `spank me, use me, hurt me' look." Quentin wanted to die. He wanted it all to end right now. There he was, naked, on his hands and knees, with a total stranger taking pictures of him in the most intimate poses. Dave told him to beg the camera to fuck him, and Quentin thought, "God, just let me die right now." It took two hours for the photo shoot to conclude. Quentin quickly returned to the dressing room and got dressed. He again looked into the mirror. What had he become? How would he survive this? His parents, his friends -- how would he tell them why he posed naked for Playgirl? God, at least it was over. Todd never mentioned that he received $250,000 for Quentin's shoot. It was twice what the magazine ever paid for a celebrity model. But, since Todd gave Playgirl the rights to use all photos repeatedly and republish them in other magazines and in internet media, they were happy to pay. The next day, Todd dropped in on Quentin. When he opened the door, Todd said, "Hey, faggot. Thanks for the great dinner. I took 20 friends out. We spent almost $10,000 of your hard-earned cash. You wouldn't believe the look on the waiter's face when I gave him a $3,000 tip. Shit, you can't believe how much I like your money." Quentin looked at the 16-year-old boy and desperately tried to figure out what he needed to say to stop all this. "Okay, faggot. I want you naked right now," Todd demanded as he walked inside. Quentin slowly stripped as Todd had made him do dozens of times over the past two weeks. "I think we should try something new tonight, you little faggot boy. I think we need to show off more of your body." Quentin didn't understand. How could he show off more than he already had in the Playgirl photos? "I was talking to my friends tonight at dinner. They totally like your new costume at concerts and think all the guys should perform barefoot, wearing only tight jeans. However, they thought you have too much hair for a faggot slut." Todd said. He talked loudly, indicating he had too much to drink. "Too much hair? But you've got me shaved almost smooth right now! You made me shave around my dick, chest, and even my ass." Quentin said, not believing what he was hearing. "Shut the fuck up, faggot boy. I want you in the bathroom, and I don't want to see you again until you are fucking smooth from the neck down. Arms, legs, chest, crotch, ass. Everything. Got it, boy?" Quentin stared at his bare feet. "Yes, Sir." Quentin stumbled into the bathroom and got out his shaving cream and razor. He started at his crotch. It took almost an hour, but he managed to remove all the hair on his body. He looked in the mirror. His pale, well-defined torso was absolutely hairless. Without any hair, he looked younger, like a teenager. Quentin always looked boyish, but now he felt ridiculous, like a little kid. With his clean-shaven face, Quentin looked more like Todd's little brother. He was 38, and Todd was only 16, but for the first time, he felt younger than Todd. It was odd, but he had never felt more naked or vulnerable; he was smooth and exposed. Quentin reported back to the living room. Todd was watching TV and turned to look at Quentin. "Shit, boy, you don't look like a man anymore." He began to laugh. "You're a fucking little boy. Shit, a fucking little faggot queer." Quentin stood there quietly, head hung in shame, dick hanging limply from his smooth crotch between his smooth legs. Todd examined his entire body. His armpits were smooth, his rounded ass cheeks had been shaved, and Quentin's well-toned arms and legs were smooth. Quentin had even shaved the tiny hairs off each of his toes, leaving his feet smooth as well. "Well, I think we need to show you off. Get dressed, boy. We're going out." Todd demanded. Quentin pulled on his jeans, navy T-shirt, and dress shoes and followed Todd to the door. They went to his Jeep, which was now signed over to Todd, and Todd drove. "Shit, you are a pathetic little faggot boy. You look fucking pathetic with no body hair." Todd drove to the mall and parked. "OK, I need a few little things. Let's see how much of your money we can spend, pussy boy." Quentin thought that at least, being shaved and dressed like this, no one was likely to recognize him, but he was wrong. Lots of girls pointed at Quentin and whispered. He got lots of weird looks from people, all of whom were trying to figure out if it was really him. Todd headed to the electronics store. He pulled out Quentin's credit card and bought $20,000 of... " stuff." He shopped around the mall for about two hours, and before they left, Todd had spent more than $100,000 and arranged for the stuff to be shipped to his home. "God, I love your money. I'm 16, and I'm worth $10 million! How much do you have? Oh yeah, you've got nothing! You're absolutely broke! Oh well, easy come, easy go." Was $10 mil an exaggeration? It could be true. A week later, the Playgirl magazine hit the shelves. Even Quentin was shocked - Todd had given an interview on Quentin's behalf -- as his Power of Attorney and good, good friend. On the cover, below Quentin's naked chest, it said: "XHEIGHT's Quentin Quartz says, `I'm Gay, And I Like To Take It Up the ASS!" Quentin hadn't told anyone about the photos -- he was embarrassed. He stayed in his small apartment for a couple of days, refusing to answer the phone. His manager called and left messages. The guys called an emergency meeting to decide what to do and see if Quentin could stay in the group. His Dad called and left a long message. "Look, son, you have been a total stranger for the last month and have done some horrific things! And it is just too much for us to deal with. You have never embarrassed your Mother and me more. My God, what the hell were you thinking? Your Mother is in her room crying. We can't show our faces in this town. Mom will never be able to show her face in church again." His Dad continued, "I love you so much. I have reached out to you, but you tell us nothing. It's like you are divorcing us. After seeing that magazine, I am so disgusted with you. Consider this the last phone call you will ever get from us. You have made your bed; now lie in it. You don't respect us. Well, from now on, I don't have a son. You make me sick. Your Mom and I have made so many sacrifices for you, and how do you thank us? You have become a total national laughingstock. An internationally disgusting fool. I hope this is what you want. What all your celebrity friends like, because it just doesn't fly here in Mississippi. When you sold your home last week, OUT OF THE BLUE - I knew then you didn't want to return here again. Well, good, because you are not wanted here. You make me sick. Showing off your body for money? You're just a whore. You hear me? A whore! I have no son!" Quentin sat in the dark apartment, crying as he listened to the messages coming in. His friends were calling to tell him he was sick. Randomly, some weirdo people called to tell him how hot he was, that they would just love to fuck a good slut. Men left graphic messages, offering to fuck him. Quentin finally turned off the phone machine. Todd arrived around 8:00 that night. When he let himself in, he had a copy of Playgirl in his hand and a huge smile on his face. "Well, faggot boy, you look hot! What a great photoshoot. There you are, spread wide, dick hard, ass open, with a big `fuck me, I'm a total faggot' look on your face. Fucking beautiful. I especially like the centerfold, your hard dick, and the SLUT tattoo showing. Imagine the guys jacking off to that right now, thinking about fucking your ass rough and hard. Making you their boy." Quentin had hit total bottom. He felt he had nothing left to lose. Why was this happening? Why was this boy doing this to him? "Okay, faggot, time to go out for the night. Come on, we've got lots to do." Todd drove Quentin to a seedy-looking piercing joint. Quentin's heart jumped. Oh shit, what the hell was he going to get pierced? "Hey Frank, I talked to you over the phone; good to see you. As I mentioned, I need to get my boy here pierced." Todd said to the guy in the shop. Frank looked at Quentin and smiled. "Well, if it isn't Quentin Quartz. Hah! What the hell happened to you? Weren't you the goody-two-shoes boyband guy? Mr. Church-going, straight-as-an-arrow, holier-than-thou guy? Then, out of nowhere, you pose nude and give a graphic and degrading interview. What a fucking perverted way to come out and tell the world that you're gay! Going on and on about how much you liked to be fucked. I probably wouldn't have told the whole world I like little boys, but I guess you can say whatever you want in your interview." Quentin just stared at his feet. "Okay, Frank, I want your largest ring through his piss slit. Now that he's told the world that he's a faggot bottom boy slut, it's time to show the world that his dick isn't needed to fuck anything. I want everyone who sees him to know that he is a bottom and only a bottom. Make it a huge ring. Got it?" Frank voiced some concerns. "I must warn you that the ring you're asking for will be 1.5 inches in diameter, and thick metal. That's pretty hefty. It will be awkward and difficult to pee. Usually, the urine squirts all over the place. And, it's quite uncomfortable when wearing tight clothes or even turning over in his sleep." Tood said only one word, "Perfect!" "Well, boy, you gotta strip," Frank told him, "but I guess that's not a problem for you. You seem to like being naked in front of other people." Quentin's eyes filled with tears as he opened his pants and dropped lowered them to expose his dick. "Frank said, `strip,' that means totally," Todd commanded. Quentin then proceeded to pull off his dress shoes and socks, and then remove his pants and shirt. He stood there naked. "SHHHHIIIIIITTTTTT!" Quentin screamed. Frank's huge needle pushing through his piss slit and out the underside of his dick almost made him pass out. Quentin had never felt anything so painful. He lay on the table, totally spread out, naked, with Frank's hand firmly around his erect dick. Frank grabbed a thick metal 1.5-inch ring and carefully threaded it through his new piss hole. Then he got a pair of pliers and forced the ring shut. Then, a quick bit of solder. This ring was never coming out. Quentin looked down, and he looked ridiculous; his whole body shook. He felt as if he were in shock. His bare feet were cold, and his body was covered with sweat and goosebumps. He stared at his dick. His body was smooth, and he now had a huge ring at the end of his dick. It was clear that his fucking days were over - with this huge ring, his dick would never fit into anyone else again. He was a total bottom for life. Actually, he could go to a doctor or another piercing place and have it removed, but just having heard, "Now that's in to stay. It ain't never coming out!" was too overwhelming to ignore, and so he believed it. "Hey, that's great. Okay, Quentin, pay the man." Todd said. Quentin crawled off the table and limped to his jeans, his bare feet shuffling across the dirty, cold floor. As he bent over to get his jeans, his bare smooth ass stuck up. He grabbed his wallet, and immediately, a wave of embarrassment overcame him - he saw that it only had $16. "Um, Todd, you've got all my money." To be continued... Wow! He was in Playgirl Magazine which told the world, "XHEIGHT's Quentin Quartz says, `I'm Gay, And I Like To Take It Up the ASS!" and then that awful huge non-removable dick piercing. Fuck. Is Todd going to change Quentin's appearance further? Is that possible? What is going to happen to the band? Quentine is being pushed far away from all that he was. But, surely, Todd will back off, right? Send your thoughts and comments to me, Bruce Darkforce, at gaygic@gmail.com