Date: Sat, 13 Apr 2024 21:35:08 -0700 From: gayD Subject: Gay Twink's Fantasies - chapter 6 Well guys, this is it. The final chapter. Who will win out, (former) international singing sensation, Quentin Quartz, or that fucked up degenerate asshole, 16-year-old Todd. And the answer is.... Famous Star Succumbs to Gay Twinks Fantasies Part 6 of 6 Did Todd have a sudden change of heart? He was being kind to Quentin for the first time...was he trying to make amends? Obviously, he wasn't leaving Quentin homeless as he was kind enough to rent a house for him so that he had his own place to live and wouldn't be out on the streets. As Todd drove him through a rough area of town, Quentin wondered why they were there; was this just a shortcut to his new apartment? Then their surroundings got even worse, as Quentin realized they were in a Latin gang-infested ghetto with graffitied, broken, and trashed homes everywhere. All of a sudden, at the end of the street, Todd pulled over and stopped. There you go. It's that white clapboard house there, the one with the broken front window." Todd said as he pointed to what looked like an old, abandoned, dilapidated house. Quentin blinked his eyes and mumbled, "Here?" He looked around; the street didn't even have streetlights. He felt sick to his stomach. "Wa ... wa ... where's the key?" "Actually -- and here's the good news - the landlord told me that the front door lock is broken, so you don't even need a key." Quentin's mouth fell open as he thought, "Me - an international star ... living ... here?" Todd drove off and left Quentin on the sidewalk.
He wandered toward the "house," his new rental, and walked up the dilapidated stairs onto the porch. He just had to push the door open. When he stepped inside, the house was awful, obviously being rented by a slumlord. The lock on the front door wasn't just broken. It was missing. One window was smashed, and another window was simply gone. There was a gas stove, but the gas was shut off ... as well as the electricity. There was no fridge, which made him wonder what he would eat - he had the $100 the attorney gave him, but how far would that go? He looked in the kitchen cabinets and saw some cans of Alpo Dog Food. There was a manual can opener, but he noticed that there was no dishware or utensils to eat with, not that he would eat dog food anyway. Or would he? On the floor, in the corner of the kitchen, there was a large plastic dog dish. Quentin was dizzy and confused. How could anyone do this to him? He noticed a few pieces of furniture, all in poor condition, but no bed. In fact, no bed, sheets, blankets - nothing. He was all burned out, totally empty. He crashed on the torn sofa and slept for a long time. Maybe this nightmare would be over when he woke up. Todd knocked on his door three days later, which was odd because there was no lock. This was the first time Todd showed any sign of respect - was something good about to happen? Quentin got up from his sleep and went to the door; he put his fingers into the hole where the lock should have been and pulled it open. "Hey, good buddy." Todd greeted him with a joyous smile as he walked into Quentin's new home carrying several boxes. Quentin wondered about the mystery boxes - what the fuck? "I know I was hard on you," Todd said, for the first time not also calling Quentin a faggot. "But even so, you've cooperated fully with me. I mean, you've trusted me at every step, and your dancing naked on the bar that night made me think you really should have what you truly deserve. You have been, really, from the start, fucking-un-believable, so I have a wonderful surprise for you. It's fabulous! Fucking great! You don't like living here, do you?" Quentin shook his head, not understanding what was happening, but sensed a glimmer of hope. "You don't like it here? Then, enough said. You shouldn't be in a place like this. You are ... I mean were ... one of the most famous guys in the whole fucking world, and if my buddy doesn't want to live here, then please allow me to fix that. I want to make everything right for my buddy. I want you to have every fucking thing you truly deserve." Could it be? Was Todd about to unwind all the crap he did to him and give him his life back? Really? "So, whadda ya say, Quentin, let's pack up all your stuff in these empty boxes and get you properly taken care of. OK, buddy?" Quentin practically fell to the floor; his head was spinning. He was sobbing and wanted to hug Todd and thank him profusely. FINALLY, HE WAS GETTING OUT OF THERE AND ENDING THIS RELATIONSHIP WITH TODD! A huge weight lifted off his shoulders as he continued to sob tears of joy and happiness. He saw the empty boxes, and those meant he'd be moving out! FUCK! If only he could hug Todd to show his appreciation. Quentin Quartz of XHeight is coming back! Quentin didn't have anything, just what he was wearing and a few things he had bought with the $100 he was given - some snack foods, some toiletries, toilet paper, and stuff like that; he had only $15.76 left from the hundred. He wondered where he'd be moving to, thinking that he would first get a burger - anything was better than the dog food Todd had bought for him a few days ago. Anyway, he didn't want to think about the past. He thought he should move slowly, get a nice apartment in a nice area, and just relax for a few days to recover. Quentin was finally allowing himself to feel better and smile a bit. But then there was a knock at the door. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it, Quentin." Todd barked. "Quentin," Todd called him. He was glad the name-calling and insults had stopped. Quentin opened the door and saw two guys in overalls waiting with dollies. "Hey, we're the movers. Is this the place for the furniture pickup?" the lead guy asked. "Yep," Todd interjected. "Let the guys in, buddy." In less than an hour, the movers carted out the few pieces of furniture from the apartment: a chair, the sofa, the stove, window coverings (torn as they were), a lamp, and an end table. Apparently, Todd had placed the furniture in the house just after renting it, so he could now take everything and empty it. The two boxes that held all his personal items went next, and Quentin then noticed the last can of dog food in the cupboard. "THANK GOD!" he screamed inside his head. "I don't want to ever see dog food again!" The guys had loaded all Quentin's stuff on the truck, and his shack of a place was now completely empty. Todd had told them to take it if it wasn't bolted down. Then one of the movers asked, "Well, that's it. Could you please sign the form indicating that you are donating all these items to Goodwill?" Todd yelled, "Hey, Quentin, he needs your signature to show you are giving all your stuff to charity." And just then, his world fell apart again as Quentin realized he wasn't being moved to a nicer place; in fact, he wasn't moving at all. Everything he had in the world was just taken from him. He fainted - he just collapsed on the floor. Todd slapped his face a few times, and Quentin came to. "Hey buddy," Todd said with a smile, "These guys need your signature to verify your kind donation to Goodwill." A pen was placed in Quentin's lifeless hand, and a clipboard was pushed under the pen; Todd helped him to scribble his name. That was it - everything was gone. Quentin couldn't believe it; he now had absolutely nothing left. "Thanks. We'll be off," said the Goodwill guy. "Hey, there's one more bag. Can you guys wait for a second?" Todd said to the movers. "Sure, we'll be in the hall." The door shut, and Quentin noticed Todd had that wicked smile he always flashed when he was about to do something awful. "Okay, faggot, strip. Put your clothes in the bag." He held out the opened paper bag to Quentin. Quentin stood there, frozen. Everything he had was gone. All he had left was the clothes he was wearing, and now Todd wanted to take them as well? "What?" Quentin stammered. "You want me to ..." Todd interrupted quickly. "Strip now, you stupid faggot. These guys have been very nice to you. Don't be disrespectful by keeping them waiting. Fucking strip now!" Almost in a trance, Quentin pulled off his shirt, pants, shoes, and socks. He removed his wallet and held it as he carefully placed each item in the bag. He stood there in only the tiny bikini underwear that Todd had given him at some point. It was his only vestige of clothing, and you could see the metal dick ring slipping out the leg hole of the bikini briefs. "Fuck! What is that?" Todd yelled, pointing up to Quentin's necklace. Quentin was puzzled until he realized that Todd was asking about his silver necklace with a small silver cross hanging around his neck. "Please, please, my mother gave it to me for my Holy Confirmation; I've worn it since I was twelve. It's been in the family forever, please..." "Now! Hand it over. Put it in the bag now!" Todd demanded, still holding the bag open. Quentin's hands trembled as he slowly unfastened the chain at the back of his neck and carefully placed the silver cross in the bag. The very last thing that Quentin owned was gone. "Good boy. Now, wait here, you little fuck." Todd opened the door. "Here's the last bag. Thanks, guys." Todd said as he closed the door again. He looked at Quentin: there he was in a stripped-down, bare apartment. Even all the shades and window coverings were taken. He had no privacy. The room was now stark-looking and cold due to a cool breeze coming in through the missing window. Quentin seemed so small and insignificant as he stood in his skimpy bikini in his empty apartment. He looked like a helpless, abandoned puppy waiting to be rescued. Todd smiled. "Well faggot, I guess that's it. All of your stuff is gone. I've got all of your money, closed all your accounts, and even closed your phone account. Now that you have no phone, it only made sense. "I even closed your Facebook and Twitter accounts after posting your final message to millions of fans and followers. Oh, you'll love this - here's what I wrote for you: `Since you won't hear from me anymore, I want you to know I've found a new, wonderful, fulfilling life. I feel so happy and content to be sucking each and every dick I can beg to worship, and I love it when guys fuck me up the ass as hard as they can. I can't admit that I do the big `nasty' with minors because I don't want to get arrested, but if you happen to see me on the streets, please let me serve you in any way you wish. I am now so fucking proud to finally be what I have always craved to be, a fucking asshole cum slut cunt!'" Todd laughed after he read his masterpiece of degradation. "Fag, don't think of me as totally cruel to you. I'm not. You will notice I graciously left you with that prissy bikini cunt-cover, right?" Todd glared with a glowing smile. "I want to leave you with that bikini so that no one could rudely say, `Todd took every shred of your dignity.' See, I did leave you with that one shred." He joked. "By the way, the short-term lease I negotiated on this place ends in two days, but, again, look on the bright side - you won't have to do housework anymore; that makes this a nice tidy wrap. You have absolutely nothing: no friends, no job, no money, no furniture, no clothes, no future, no hope. Perfect! Maybe you could sell your ass for a quarter? I don't know, but then again, I don't manage your finances anymore, remember? That Durable Power of Attorney you made for me only lasted 10 days, so it officially ends today. I'm not your manager anymore, so don't come crying to me that you're broke. I no longer have anything to do with your financial situation." Quentin, leaning against the wall, finally allowed himself to slither until his ass was on the floor. He was glassy-eyed and in a mindless state, kind of blubbering, "Oh God, please, you can't leave me here, Todd! Please, please, please, I've done everything you said! Everything!" It was hard to understand Quentin as his sobs were so loud, with tears streaming down his face. "Oh God, what else do you want? Please, please, don't leave me here!" Todd sneered at Quentin. "What do I want from you? What the hell do you have to give me? I've already taken everything. Most guys who lose everything manage to keep some shred of their dignity, at least. "You have got to be the stupidest faggot who ever lived., odd told him, "Shit, you allowed a 16-year-old to take everything! You are a worthless fucking whore, dancing naked on a bar and jacking your pathetic little boy dick in front of everyone, exposing yourself to the world. Letting yourself get shaved, pierced, tattooed. You willingly let a teenager end your career, turn you into a fucking whore, and sell your ass for money. You let teenagers fuck you for cash. And now you let a teenager strand you naked in your empty, filthy, cubby hole? Well, it's your home until the day after tomorrow, anyway. You are pathetic." Todd was disgusted as he looked at Quentin. "God, why would I do anything for you? You've got nothing to give me. You are a total fucking worthless piece of shit. And then he added, "That's what you get when you are rude to people like you were on the first day I met you." "Oh shit! I just now thought of something!" Todd walked to the open window and looked out. The movers were packing the truck and securing the last of the furniture. "Hey guys, hold on a second. I forgot something." Todd gleamed, "Hey fag, I just had a wonderful idea. This is going to be such a hoot! I'm sure you'll crack up when you hear it. What a fabulous idea. I know you'll love it, I sure do!" "You know how I just allowed you to keep your little bikini panties? Well... I was just kidding!" Todd laughed his head off. "You are so gullible! Fag, take off those sissy panties. Isn't this a great joke? What a sap you are. My god, my cleverness never ends!" Quentin was babbling as he slowly slipped the skimpy cloth off his hips and down his legs; he likely didn't even know what he was doing. He didn't have the awareness to hold them up to Todd, so Todd picked the bikini up off the floor. Todd returned to the window and yelled, "Hold off. I have one last important item for you. Please come up again." The mover waved in acknowledgment. Soon, the two guys were back at the door. "Oh yeah, here you go. This asshole was so selfish to hold out on you two nice gentlemen." "Oh my, well, thank you so much." One man said as he was about to leave. "Hold on a sec," Todd said and then turned to Quentin. "Don't you think they should get a tip?" Quentin wasn't sure what he was saying. Todd went over and took Quentin's wallet out of his limp hand. "I think $10.00 for each of you two would be appropriate." Todd opened the wallet and found the $15, with 38 cents in the coin pocket. "Well, here, $15.38, and sorry, but there's no more here, so take the wallet too." "But this has his I.D. and his ..." the worker started to say. "Really? Look at him. What's he need with an I.D. and stuff?" All three laughed a good belly laugh.
Then Todd thought, "Oh wait, here, let me have those three pennies back. I will give them to Quentin so he can't say I left him penniless." Todd laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes. As he was leaving, he turned back to Quentin. "Oh, by the way, my Dad says I can't hang with you anymore. He says you're a bad influence, a sick faggot-lowlife. Well, I'm out of here - I've got to spend more of your money." Then Todd walked out, leaving the door wide open, still laughing. Just over a month ago, Quentin Quartz of XHeight, who had just turned 39, had been one of the world's most cherished and beloved men. He was one of the most eligible bachelors and the brains behind XHeight. Today, he was sitting naked on the floor, curled up in the corner of the living room of his dilapidated "home," his smooth, curved ass resting on the broken tile floor. His knees were pulled in tight to his smooth chest as he hugged them there, his bare feet flat on the floor. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees, the word `SLUT" clearly visible on one arm, his limp dick stretched to the floor by his non-removable, heavy Prince Albert dick ring. Huddling like this was the only way to try to keep warm; the door, which had no lock or latch, just kept swinging back open. He had no idea what would happen when he got evicted in two days, but at that moment, all he could do was fall asleep dreaming of the high life of his former celebrity. Famous Star Succumbs to Gay Twinks Fantasies Epilogue When Quentin left his rental "home" the next day, walking naked on the street, a police car pulled up and stopped him. After a brief exchange, the officer covered him in a blanket and drove him to a homeless shelter. There, they gave him used clothes, food and basic shelter. Within a week, county services set him up in temporary public housing and gave him a $300-monthly stipend. His social worker, Sara, helped him get his cock ring removed at the local hospital. More challenging was getting his tattoo removed, which took multiple treatments. Quentin felt better now, more human. He took his new life slowly, step by step. However, Quentin never gave the welfare department his real name or identified himself as a member of XHeight. But Sara knew who he was and figured he just got messed up on drugs, and, apparently, just got free of them. For months, Quentin was trying to figure out how to resurrect himself. How to get back on good terms with his band members. How to restart himself as the lead singer of XHeight. The problem is, his international image as a superstar will always be shit. I mean, photos and videos of him naked and boned-up all over the internet? Those can never be erased from Playgirl, social media, or people's memories. FUCK! Then something awful happened. There was a story in the news that the lead singer of a less famous band, Societal Rage, was killed in a car accident. Societal Rage was not internationally well known. But it was a popular and up-and-coming exciting band on the music scene. In fact, they had their first contract to perform at the converted venue, Radio City Music Hall. That was amazing. Or, would have been amazing. The Music Hall event was scheduled to take place in three months, but now, the band needed to cancel it. It was their big chance to reach heightened celebrity and really make it. But they had no lead singer. Quentin's social worker, a huge fan of both music groups, put two and two together. Quentin was a fabulous singer without a band, and Societal Rage was a solid band without a singer. Sara did her research and found Ezra Hutchens, a music promoter. She told Ezra all about Quentin Quartz's latest predicament. Ezra personally arranged for Quentin to meet the members of Societal Rage. What fucking great luck! The meeting took place. All the members of Societal Rage knew Quentin Quartz, and despite all the adverse events and publicity, they knew there was no better singing talent on earth. They instantly came to a deal. The only stipulation was that Quentin could not use his real name or mention XHeight. Quentin came up with the name Damon Diamond and changed his look by dying his hair blonde and growing a mustache and a chin-strap beard. A sexy look. The Radio City Music Hall concert, with Quentin as the lead singer for Societal Rage, exceeded all expectations. It was a tremendous success. Fans of Societal Rage, knowing its lead singer passed away, were all wondering where this new lead came from. They thought he was fabulous. And guess who showed up to this concert? Ezra Hutchens, the father of the 16-year-old Todd. After the concert, Ezra approached his former client backstage. "Quentin." His voice was shakey, "Quentin, I know what my son did to you, most of it anyway. How he set you up and blackmailed you to take your property." Quentin was shocked but also relieved. "I... I... was so ... so... embarrassed. But... how.. how did you find out." He wanted to know if Ezra knew about all the sexual abuse and cruel humiliation Todd -- his son - put him through. Quentin was not going to offer any new information. He let Ezra take the lead. "Todd was pulled over for speeding. I didn't even know he had a car. It was a red jeep. I think it was the one you had. I found out he parked it at a rather ritzy apartment he rented across town, which was also unknown to me. I tell you, Quentin, I was in shock. My little Todd was leading a double life!" "When the officer asked for his driver's license and registration, the jig was up. Not only did he not have a driver's license, but a 16-year-old can't own a car. He was taken into custody, and I was called." "The interrogators tricked him by telling him he was going to prison for a very long time. The dam burst. My son spilled his guts. Your beautiful house, your bank accounts, your property, even your Jeep... all fraudulently stolen from you." The father, nearly in tears, went on. "I am so sorry, Quentin. I'm working with my attorneys to return all your property. Is there anything I have missed? Did he hurt you in any other ways?" Apparently, Ezra did not know about all the disgusting and humiliating sexual treatment he went through. This was Quentin's chance to fully expose Todd as a conniving, sadistic, perverted asshole. "Ah... no... just the property, Ezra." "Look, Quentin, I will make full restitution of all your property, but I don't think I can restore your reputation as Quentin Quartz. However, if you do not press charges against Todd, I promise to work for you and promote you as Damon Diamond, pro bono, forever." "Thanks. I will consider your offer and ask the band what they think. Right now, as you just saw, I'm working on a plan with Societal Rage to replace Gus (their lead singer who passed away). It's our first concert, but, oh my God, we are such a nice fit. It's been a while since I heard crowds cheering and loving me, even as Damon Diamond. I guess what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." The two men shook hands and parted on good terms. What happened to Todd? Quentin didn't press charges, but Ezra "allowed" his son to go to juvenile hall for six months, saying, "He needs to feel justice and have time to think over how he hurt you." Damon Diamon and the Societal Rage band were heading to stardom. Quentin would soon be the number one international singing star he used to be. The End What did you think? Let me know. Bruce Darkforce Tanmanca@gmail.com. Most of my stories are on GayTies.com. Let me know if you want more information. Oh, and do support Nifty.org.