Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2019 20:12:18 -0700
From: Emri S. <tarzanacide@gmail.com>
Subject: Ahmed's Cub - Ch. 05

Story Recap: Ahmed, a fit, Egyptian man of 24 years meets the boy of his
dreams in Dylan who is newly 18. Dylan was in a deep depression over the
tragic loss of his parents in a car accident. Dr. Colton Takada administers
a procedure that relieves Dylan of his illness but also instills in him a
deep desire and obedience for Ahmed. Now they are traveling to Saudi Arabia
to meet potential clients.

-----------------

Ahmed's Cub

Ch.5 - The Presentation

By Emri & Xelos

-----------------

"He's been asleep since we took off! He will be well-rested for the day,"
Dr. Takada laughed.

I had just woken up myself and the digital map on the screen in front of me
showed we were passing over Cairo. I leaned over Dylan to get a peek out
the window. My native city glowed beneath us in the early morning dark. I
knew my family was down there sleeping. My boy was sleeping peacefully too;
snuggled into my side.

It had been a busy 4 days preparing for our trip. Dylan had been working
out, chugging protein shakes, and undergoing more treatments with Dr.
Takada. We had filmed him responding to ridiculous commands from me. He was
so eager to please. I'd spent his many sleeping hours engrossed in studying
the procedure and looking for new directions we could take it.

Dr. Takada had increased Dylan's aptitude for athletics. The side effects
were adorable. Dr. Takada had brought in a pitching machine from a batting
cage. My boy spent two hours that night running around the backyard hitting
balls, collecting them, and refilling the machine. Dylan was gaining
confidence and eager to get back into sports.

I spent the last hour of our flight going over the presentation notes while
Dylan slept like a rock against my chest. I took little breaks to kiss his
forehead, pet his head, rub his tummy. My angel boy opened his eyes as the
plane started to dive down into the host desert morning. He stretched and
yawned then rubbed his ears and looked at me with hazy confusion.

"We are here," I said. He nodded with a mumble of agreement and stretched
his arms over his head. I gave him a bottle of water. He chugged it while
looking around the plane.

We were the first group off and Dr. Takada went to check on our
arrangements while I took Dylan to the restroom. We were in the
international terminal so he didn't look too out of place amongst the
diverse crowd of visitors, but I was still on guard.

I went into the big stall with him at the end of the row. Dylan kicked up
the seat and let out what he'd held through his 10 hours of sleep. It was
quite impressive. He finished up then changed out of the t-shirt and
flannel shorts he'd worn to sleep in on the plane and into a pair of dark
pants and long-sleeved shirt more appropriate for Arab standards.

Dr. Takada was waiting for us outside the men's room. He took us to a
private suite at the end of the terminal where our driver was waiting with
Saudi immigration. Sheikh Sayed had set up the VIP treatment so the office
only gave a cursory look to our bags and passports. Dylan had been
instructed to remain silent which turned out to not be necessary since he
was buried in the game on his phone. At some point I would address his
phone addiction, but for the moment it served a purpose.

By the time we were ushered to a waiting limo, Dylan was on level 14. He
snuggled under my arm as the driver took us out of the city and through the
open desert. I kissed his head and earned an appreciative whimper as the
sun climbed higher into the sky.

We turned off onto a smaller road that began to follow a high cement wall.
The wall on the left was soon joined by another to the right of the road
and then the limo eased to a stop. The driver lowered his window and spoke
to a group of guards carrying an impressive array of  weaponry. They talked
for a minute then opened the gate and let us through.

The small road opened to a wide boulevard paved with brick and lined with
towering palms. It ended in a circle around a towering, blue-tiled
fountain. The driver pulled around it and under a portico to cover us from
the blazing sun. Two men in white uniforms came to open our doors and show
us inside the hotel.

It wasn't a tall building. People with this much money have no need to
stack things. We came into a sweeping lobby of thick blue carpet, tinted
glass walls, and the peaceful chirping of exotic birds. Dylan put his phone
away and smiled as he watched them fly around in a huge brass cage. I took
Dylan's hand in mine and we followed Dr. Takada to the reception area where
a group of businessmen sat around a on plush couches talking.

"Colton! My dear!" A tall man I recognized as Sheikh Zayed rose from the
group and came to greet us. He hugged Dr. Takada and kissed his cheeks. He
smiled warmly but his eyes quickly zeroed in on my Dylan. I couldn't blame
him. Even with the plain clothes I'd picked for him, he was still a
stunning boy. He'd started to climb back towards the glowing athletic youth
he'd been before his trauma. With a week of proper food, rest, peace, and
exercise, he had the air of a well-kept, handsome boy.

Sheikh Zayed, a tall man near my father's age, had big brown eyes and a
pronounced, Saudi nose. His crisp white throbe was adorned with gold
stitching around the collar and cuffs. The man dripped wealth but offered
warmth as if we were of similar class. He was well known for his kindness.

"Hello! You must be Ahmed," the sheikh said as he came to me next. He
hadn't taken his eyes off of Dylan but knew it was customary to go through
the boy's keeper rather than address him directly. It was his way of
recognizing that Dylan was my property and under my care.

"Sir! It is an honor. The generosity of your empire is well known in my
home country of Egypt," I bowed to him and spoke in arabic.

"Thank you. I have a great love for the people of the Nile. I keep an
apartment near Cairo! You are welcome to use it when you visit if you need
time away from your family," he offered in the overly generous customs of
our people.

"Thank you, sir. May I present my boy?" I asked. Per our customs I knew he
would completely ignore Dylan unless I offered him. I brought my boy
forward and the sheikh appraised him with interest. We spoke in Arabic so
naturally Dylan was out of the loop. He dodged behind me when the sheikh
squeezed his shoulder with one hand and ruffled his hair with the other.

"Excuse him. He has had a long and disorienting flight," I said. I should
have prepared Dylan for meeting the esteemed sheikh. The boy pressed his
cheek against my shoulder, unsure of what to make of him. I'd only told
Dylan to stay quiet and he was doing well with that.

"Of course," Zayed laughed. "He is far from home. I will have lunch sent to
your room so you can settle in before tonight. You will find your luggage
there."

I thanked the sheikh and was introduced to the other businessmen in his
group. Dylan stayed pressed into my side until we left for our room.

A young Sudanese man in a white uniform led us out through a tropical
garden. Misters from the walls made it feel cool and humid under the desert
heat. We walked a stone path between soaring flowering plants.

The path forked off to the left and right with small signs indicating the
routes to numbered rooms. Each room was its own building with a private
patio. I couldn't figure out the design until I saw between two of them and
realized we were edging the coast. Each little building was placed along a
cliff that hung over the beach below along the crystal blue sea.

"It's beautiful, no? Our suite is near the back and past additional
security," Dr. Takada said as we followed the worker. He took us down more
lush garden pathways. It was a resort for people who valued their privacy.

We turned one more corner and then met three security guards. Two were tall
Arabian men and the third was an equally impressive North African. I
remembered Dr. Takada saying that the two guests on either side of our
suite had blocked off the area and joined their security forces to ensure
our shared safety.

They scanned our eyes and checked us against the pictures on our passports
then welcomed us in broken English. I responded in Arabic and they nodded
happily then allowed us through and pointed us to our building. The resort
worker started to pass but they stopped him. It was guests only. They
certainly were living up to Dr. Takada's assurances of their quality.

Our small building was between two larger buildings on a cliff that stuck
out beside the others. The door opened to a living room backed by a wall of
glass that showed the endless sea. There were bedrooms on either side of it
with private baths. The place looked newly redone with modern furniture in
a blue and turquoise theme. The walls were a silver wallpaper printed with
black and white diagonal stripes.

Dylan found our bedroom with our luggage lined up next to a large dresser.
He ran for the bed, kicked off his shoes, and dove onto it. He sprawled out
and waved his arms and legs over the fluffy comforter with a happy "Haaaah!"

"This place is lit as fuck! Did you see those guards? Did you see those
guns? Who was the creeper feeling on me? Is he the rich guy who owns this
place? What was he saying? I don't speak that language!" Dylan was free
from his silence imperative and rambling excitedly.

"It is a very nice place. That was Sheikh Zayed. He owns this private
resort and many others. You did well staying quiet. He was appraising you
and he seemed pleased. He can help spread awareness of the procedure to
save others from depression," I told him. Dylan sat up and reached for me.
I sat beside him and pulled him against my side.

"Look at our view! We have to swim. We have to surf! They have boats!"
Dylan sat up and looked out the window beside the bed.

"We will. First though we must get through tonight. You should have some
lunch now. You haven't eaten since Los Angeles." Dylan had slept through
the meal service on the plane.

"Oh starved!" He put his hand on his stomach as if suddenly remembering. We
went out to the living room where a worker was wheeling in a tray of food.
He put it in the center of the room then removed the silver cover to show a
small Egyptian feast.

"What dah what?" Dylan looked confused as he studied the food. He had never
seen anything like it. I chuckled watching him grab a plate and look back
and forth between me and the food.

"I will help you," I laughed. There was falafel, stuffed tomatoes, fattah,
koshari, and lamb kebabs. I explained the foods to Dylan and he took a
small sample of each. We ate on the back patio with Dr. Takada at a table
with a million dollar view of the Red sea with a cool breeze.

After lunch, we headed back to the room and I went over the presentation
one more time. Dylan started to play his video game, but I instructed him
to put our clothes away in the dressers. He wasn't much of a houseboy so I
had to show him a proper fold and remind him to hang our formal clothes
with care. I could tell he hadn't spent much of his life taking care of
himself. His parents likely had a housekeeper, but my boy would learn.

He finished with our clothes then unpacked our bathroom things while I
paced around rehearsing the script from my tablet.  I was midway through
the presentation when Dylan padded out of the bathroom wearing a simple
blue jockstrap that had little planets pouch.

"I... uh... hi," I fumbled for words. My little angel boy rolled onto his back
and spread his legs. He looked up at me with those eyes that begged for
attention.

"All done, daddy. Playtime?" he nodded at me. He  pulled his knees up
against his chest and that pretty, pink boyhole winked at me. He made it
pulse and I couldn't help licking my lips.

I'd spent the last few days playing with his hole. I needed to get him open
to take me without hurting him, but just when he was almost ready to be
fucked he'd blast cum all over me. Even worse, when I did get the tip in it
felt so good that I quickly filled him with my seed. We needed to work up
some resistance to each other. Neither of us could last long enough to
really get to the breeding.

"We should prepare for the presentation this evening! It is in few hour and
you must be ready," I reminded him of how important tonight was.

"Oh," Dylan said then got off the bed. "So I stand next to you and say
nothing, right?"

"Yes, well that is your part of things, mine is more difficult. I want this
to go well. It will bring a future for us." I looked his perfect boy body
up and down as he smirked at me.

"And we help people! Oh wow look at our view, sir!" Dylan went to the
window and placed his hands on the metal ledge. He leaned forward to check
it out, arched his back, spread his legs. His ass stuck out and his cheeks
opened to show the perfect boypussy I could not resist.

"Yes, we help people! This is most important," I agreed. I licked my lips
as his hole winked at me. We did have some time to kill and we were out of
the prying eye of Dr. Takada. Dylan looked forward out the window at the
waves crashing along the beach as he wiggled his ass as if it wasn't meant
to entice me.

"It's so nice here." He sighed. He pushed back from the window, dropping
his head and pushing his ass out farther towards me. I felt my cock go hard
in my pants just watching him. As much as I controlled my boy, he did
whatever I instructed, it hit me how much control he had over me as well.
Watching that perfect boy butt bounce with the backdrop of the beautiful
sea and swaying palms had me forget all about the important business we had
later that night.

I knelt down behind him and put my hands on his cheeks. I squeezed them and
Dylan let out a little gasp of happy anticipation at what he knew was
coming. I pulled them apart and rubbed my thumb over that perfect, pink
hole. My boy shivered and a light moan escaped his lips.

"You like that. Don't you, boy? You need daddy to play with that pretty
hole?" I asked knowing damn well he did. He needed it deep inside him. I'd
put it there with Dr. Takada's help. Dylan needed constant exposures to his
source of life, happiness, peace. He needed his daddy's touch, approval,
seed, anything I could give him. He whimpered like a pup begging for
dinner.

"Yes! Please, daddy... Oh fuck that feels good," Dylan groaned as I buried my
face between his cheeks and pushed my tongue inside his hole. I lit up
those sensitive nerve endings that made his cock spring to life in his
tight jock. I licked around the ring then stretched his hole as the boy
begged and squirmed. He pushed back against my tongue and I slid in deeper.

"Oh my God that makes my whole body feel so... Oh fuck! Please fuck me! I
need it," he begged. I took back my tongue then shoved two fingers in him.
His body buzzed with electricity as happy little tremors rolled through
him.

"That's my good boy. You love when daddy takes what's his, don't you?" I
asked. He leaned forward against the window with his arms crossed on the
ledge in front of him. He rested his head on his elbow with his face turned
back towards me. His eyes studied me with intention and he chewed on his
lower lip as I dug inside him.

"Yes, sir. Yes! Please!" He fought to keep his eyes open against the waves
of pleasure that rolled through him. His knees buckled a little and he
nodded in rhythm to my finger-fucks.

"You think you can handle? You are ready for this? Ready to be my
pussyboy?" I asked. Dylan looked a little alarmed at that word. He knew
what he was, knew what he needed. He knew he didn't dare say no, but those
little pieces of his manhood stuck out like broken shards sometimes. He
thought about it for a second then nodded.

"Tell me, boy. Tell me what you are. Tell me what you need daddy to do," I
demanded.

"Please, daddy. Please fuck my boyhole. I need you to own my... " He
trailed off, unsure if I'd make him say it. I wouldn't. As much as I loved
hearing how I owned him, I knew inside he was still a proud boy, an
innocent. I wouldn't make him beg like I had with my clients. I didn't want
that from him.

"I will, boy. Daddy's here. It's ok." I stood up, keeping my fingers inside
his squishy hole and ramming it playfully. He was ready for me. I'd
prepared him all week.

"Thank you, daddy," Dylan said. His eyes lit up and he pushed off from the
window. He stood with his back against my chest, my fingers buried in his
boyhole. I rubbed my other hand up his stomach, over his developing pecs
and up to his neck. I turned his head so I could kiss him. Those soft, pink
boylips touched my own. I slid my tongue into his mouth, tasting that he'd
just brushed his teeth and prepared for me.

I took my fingers from his hole and then turned him to face me. I wrapped
my arms around him then slid my hands down to his ass. I lifted him up and
he threw his arms around my neck. I lifted him off the ground and carried
him over to the bed. He held onto me and felt so good against my chest. I'd
do anything for this boy. He was made for me.

"Please fuck me," Dylan gasped as I laid him on his back. I stared down
into his eyes and nodded. I needed him as much as he needed me. I pushed
down my pants. My cock was rock hard and didn't need any encouragement from
his soft lips.

I put the tip against his hole then reached for the bedside table. I
pressed it against his ring as I reached. I watched him squirm on it. Sure
enough, the bedside table had an ample assortment of adult products. I
pushed past the condoms and went for one of the small lube samples. I bit
off the tip of it and then squirted half of it over my cock. I fisted it to
smooth it on then lined up my tip with his hole.

"Please, daddy. I need it," Dylan begged urgently. He pulled his knees up
next to his chest and spread his hole for me. I lubed up my cock while his
fingers went down to touch himself.

"No touch. Is for me," I reminded him. He pulled his fingers back with a
whimper. "It's coming, baby. Be patient," I laughed. Dylan gave me a pouty
lip. It looked funny on him. He was a small boy but defiantly male. Seeing
him whimper for my cock in his ass was the hottest thing I could imagine.

"Ahhh!" He hissed as I pushed into his hole. My tip stretched his ring. I'd
played with it every day but it still took a little breaking in. He started
to gasp for air and I put my hand in the center of his chest and held
still. I reminded him to breathe. He brought his hands to his chest and
covered mine where I pressed in between his pecs. He gripped my fingers
like he was strapped in on a thrill coaster.

"It hurts?" I asked. I pushed in just a little more and watched his eyes
wince in pain. He shook his head.

"No, sir. It's just... It's big, but it feels good." Dylan admitted. He
looked up at me, hoping I'd give him more. I pushed in a little farther. It
felt so tight and gripped my cock but his perfect, virgin hole felt better
than anything I'd ever experienced. Knowing it was made for me, knowing it
craved my cock, knowing it filled my boy with what he needed made it that
much better.

"Fuck it's so tight," I said as I shoved into him. Dylan arched his back
and I watched his eyes roll back in his head as the waves of pleasure
overtook him.

"Yeah, daddy. Oh fuck yeah," he grunted. His cock was rock hard in the
space blue jockstrap. He poked out the pouch. He thought keeping it in
there would help him not cum too soon, but it was pulsing and rocking under
the fabric as his body got what it needed from daddy's cock.

"That pussy is so tight, so good, baby yes," I told him as I pushed in
deeper. He whimpered like a puppy but we'd practiced his breathing to help
him take it. I loved watching his little hands grip my big one, his pink
hole stretch as I pushed in my brown monster, his developing abs flex as he
spread his ass for me. He was my perfect angel boy, daddy's good boy.

"You're so beautiful," I told him as I pushed my cock to halfway in. It was
good enough for now. He was leaking precum and the spot on the pouch of his
jock was expanding with each inch I shoved inside him. He nodded and raised
his head to suck the tip of my finger as I slid my hand up his chest.

"That's my good boy," I praised him and shoved two fingers past his lips.
He sucked them like a pacifier as I started to pump his hole. I slid my
cock slowly out then fed it back to that pretty boypussy.

"Thank you, sir," he said as he slurped on the fingers that had been in his
hole. He'd say anything to get my seed inside him. I pushed into his hole
again and started to speed up. His tight pink hole gripped me so tightly
and milked my cock.

Things felt so different with him. I'd been with a lot of boys my age and
then the older men I liked to dominate that paid for my life. With Dylan
there was a deeper connection, stronger than the procedure that addicted
him to me. He was more than just a beautiful boy, he needed me. Even before
the procedure everything about him cried out for my help, my protection.
His big blue eyes lit up when he saw me. His soft pink lips trembled a
little when he tried to talk. He was my boy.

"Fuck... my angel boy," I sighed. I pushed into him deeper and took my
fingers from his lips. He started to cry out but I leaned forward and put
my lips to his. I pushed my tongue into him as my cock stuffed his hole. He
whimpered but sucked on my tongue like a pacifier as our lips wrestled.

His hole felt too good. I wanted to breed him, but I could feel my cock on
the edge. His tight boypussy gripped me so perfectly. I felt his hard cock
trapped in the jock pouch. It pulsed against my abs as I started to rut
him. I wrapped my arms around him. His legs wrapped around my back and his
arms went around my shoulders as I pounded him into the comforter.

"Mmmmm!" He squealed. I gave my boy what he needed and pounded his prostate
with my thick Arab meat. He was gasping for air under me. I kissed him,
licked his cheek, bit on his earlobe. I couldn't get enough. I held him so
tight that I felt his heart pound against my chest.

"Fuck, boy. That pussy is so good," I praised him.

"I'm close, daddy," he called out in that desperate angel tone. Neither of
us had touched his cock but I could feel it humming against me.

"Yeah, boy. Let daddy make you cum. My angel boy cums first," I growled. I
started to pound him deep. I held back knowing he couldn't take all of me,
but the half I had shoved up his hole was good enough. He bit his lip and I
could tell it hurt him, but at the moment he was just feeling the ecstasy
of belonging to his alpha daddy. He was craving the seed up inside him, the
rush of being an owned boy pleasing his master.

"Fuck, daddy. Fuck!" Dylan started to jolt and flail under me. I felt the
pouch leak cum against my abs as I pounded him. I fucked the cum out of my
boy and it was the hottest thing I ever felt. His pussy gripped and
massaged my cock as he finished. It sent me right over the edge.

"Here it comes, boy," I grunted and shoved deeper into him. I got a loud
yelp from him as he continued to spasm and shoot between us. I buried my
load deep inside his boycunt. My cock fired off as waves of pleasure
crashed through me. I filled him with my cream and then we collapsed
together in a sweaty pile.

"Fuck," I hissed as another volley shot into him. I held him tight and
sucked on his neck while his fingers dug into my back. He gasped for air
and whimpered weakly. His lips found my shoulder and he sucked on me as I
finished.

"Oh fuck that was intense," Dylan said with a boy voice on the edge of
exhaustion. He buried his face into the nape of my neck and held onto me.

"So good," I agreed. I rolled us over onto my back and Dylan instantly
nodded off. I cradled him on my chest, my cock still buried in his hole.
His chest rose and fell against me as his body struggled for breath. I
closed my eyes and kissed his skin then dozed off.

Dr. Takada woke us some time later. We were naked and still intertwined. My
cock was soft but still fit snuggly inside him. The cum had leaked out of
his hole and I could feel it dried on my balls. He told us we had barely an
hour before we were due for dinner. I assured him we would be ready then I
carried my boy off to the shower. Dr. Takada hung up two black clothing
valet bags in the closet as he left us.

+++

I got Dylan cleaned up then wrapped towels around us and shepherded him to
the closet to see what we would be wearing for the evening. There was a new
suit for me. I recognized the designer as the premier label of the Arab
elite. I put it on and finished my tie in the mirror as Dylan came out from
the closet with a happy nod.

"I look fire as fuck!" he glowed. He had on a long white t-shirt, jeans
with ripped out knees, and new white shoes with little skulls on the laces.
He had a leather jacket with the sleeves pushed up and a red bandana tied
around his wrist. The look bulked him up a bit but he still looked like a
new member of a still forming boyband. I slicked back my hair while he
gelled his up into a wild mess then tamed it into a perfect row. He beamed
at himself in the mirror. He looked adorable.

We were ready when Dr. Takada knocked on our door. Dylan held my hand as we
walked through the resort to the dinner. Sheikh Zayed was hosting it in the
private conference center on top of the fitness room and restaurant. It was
a large, circular room with views on three sides of the sea. The sun had
set, but the glass wall was a series of sliding doors that opened to the
wide patio.

Dr. Takada introduced us to a series of guests who had come to see the
presentations. There were men from every continent. Some had boys already
and others were hoping to make their own. They all eyed Dylan eagerly,
hoping to get a glimpse into what was possible. Dylan clung to my side and
stayed silent. He nodded politely when introduced, but kept his mouth shut.
He was not a boy who liked the spotlight.

I met a handsome investor from Dubai who had brought along a 20 year old
college intern he fell for on a business trip to Mozambique. The handsome,
muscled African boy spoke little English and his patron explained that the
boy thought he was going to intern with the man's company. He would
certainly be provided for handsomely.

An older man had brought his 18 year old son from Korea. The boy had his
headphones on and was ignoring us. He was dressed like a k-pop star and
regarded this event with disdain. His father wanted him made into a serious
man who could study business and take over his corporation someday. The boy
was his youngest and had been a consistent embarrassment for his family.
The man wanted us to undo the years of spoiling his child.

There was a tech millionaire from Denmark who wanted our help in finding a
handsome Latin boy who would love him faithfully without regard for his
wealth. He told us how difficult it had been to find what he wanted. He had
entertained "scammers" and "gold-diggers" and realized it was hopeless to
find the authentic love he'd put off while building his empire.

Some of the situations and scenarios were dubious and questionable
ethically, but everyone was searching for the same thing; real, authentic
change. It touched me how much joy we could bring to the clients and how
much they would be willing to pay if we could deliver on our promise. They
were eager to speak to Dylan and see for themselves, but we would put that
off until after the presentation.

We were talking to a wealthy investor from Lebanon who wanted the procedure
for himself when Dylan tugged on my arm and told me he had to pee. I could
see the men's room just a few paces away so I let him go on his own because
the investor's story was fascinating.

He had come from a wealthy family and had inherited his father's oil
holdings and real estate portfolio. He felt he could never live up to the
legacy his father had left. He wanted Dr. Takada's help in making him more
assertive, focused, and aggressive both in business and his personal life.
I kept one eye on Dylan and listened intently to the Lebanese man. Dr.
Takada assured him we could turn him into a lion worthy of his father's
name.

I lost track of Dylan after he disappeared into the restroom, but a few
minutes later I heard him laughing. He was walking out of the restroom with
the spoiled Korean kid. The guy was a little taller than Dylan and had a
more muscled build. He said something that had Dylan rolling.

I recognized the look I saw in spoiled kid's eyes as he drank in my boy. He
put his hand on my boy's shoulder and I tore myself away from Dr. Takada
and the potential client. I moved towards Dylan and put my arm around him
to pull him away from spoiled kid. Dylan looked pleased to see me, spoiled
kid did not. He glared at me with that look one predator gives another when
claiming the same prize. He sized me up for a second then backed away.

"Hi! Shion was telling me the funniest joke! Tell him, Shion!" Dylan
laughed as he looked at spoiled kid.

"Yeah, I should get back to my dad," Shion shrugged off. He gave me a
glare,  Dylan a wink, and then left.

"I don't like this boy. He tries to take what is mine," I growled.

"What? He was showing me stuff with my new phone! This phone is fire as
fuck!" Dylan started to show me. He didn't understand the jealousy. I
reminded myself that I was the only male he thought of in this regard.
Still, I didn't like him sniffing around my angel.

Dr. Takada announced, in five languages, that dinner was serving soon and
then the presentation would begin.

Everyone moved to find a table. There had to be at least 50 men there.
Servers moved around the room setting out small plates of salads and side
dishes. Dylan waited for my direction then dug in with hunger while I went
over last minute reminders for the presentation with Dr. Takada.

Our table had the three of us and two other couples, the first was an older
West African man with his French lad and then two muscled, younger Canadian
men. The men had met in college and been together for the past 8 years.
They'd built a business together, but were growing apart. They wanted a boy
to share who could also take care of the home. They were certainly handsome
enough to find what they were looking for, but wanted a boy they could
truly trust.

The waiters brought out large cuts of meat on Brazilian skewers. They
sliced it at the tables as the clients directed. Dylan loved this. He had
slivers of lamb, steak, and chicken. His body was growing and healing. It
would go straight to his muscles.

Every time a new meat passed, he would look at me with bulging angel eyes
and wait for my nod then eagerly ask for it. It was cute how excited he got
about food, especially considering how many meals he had skipped in
mourning the loss of his parents. I was eager to see him return to the
carefree, muscled athlete he had been just a year ago. He was my happy boy.

As the guests filled their stomachs, Dr. Takada and I made our way to the
front. He gave a pitch about how disappointing humans can be, how we always
lean towards self-destruction when all have the potential for greatness. He
showed a short video explaining how his technology worked and what it could
do.

"As you can understand, most of our clients demand the utmost discretion so
it is difficult to show before and afters of what this technology can do.
Tonight, however, you will meet a boy who lost everything, experienced the
greatest of tragedies, and yet... he has been made whole! Brought back to
life! He will lead a happy, productive life all because we were able to
free him." Dr. Takada called up Dylan who looked petrified and had a piece
of chicken in his mouth.

I called to him and waved my hand. Dylan wiped his mouth quickly and
scrambled towards us. He looked at me with those big blue eyes filling
quickly with fear. He had been the baseball star whose father proudly
splashed thousands of videos about across social media. Yet standing in
front of people, even being the center of attention in a small group left
him petrified. I reached out my hand to him and he hurried to me to take
it.

He kept his eyes down, sheepishly trying to hide behind me as Dr. Takada
tried to showcase him. I urged him forward then got behind him and put my
arms around his waist to calm him. That helped. He settled but still kept
his eyes down.

"I think the boy has had enough," Dr. Takada chuckled. "Dylan, why don't
you go play your game in the waiting room while I prepare to show your
video. You'd be more comfortable out there. Right, boy?"

Dylan nodded. I didn't like the idea of him leaving the room, but I
understood why. Dylan couldn't see the full documentary Dr. Takada had
made. It explained how we'd made him submissive and bonded to me. I took
Dylan back out of the conference room and there was a side room by the
entrance. I settled him in with his earpods and phone. He quickly
disappeared into his game after a quick kiss.

"I'll be right here. Don't go wandering off, all right?" I told him.

He nodded but was sucked in by his game. I shrugged, ruffled his hair, and
went back to the conference. I gave Dr. Takada a thumbs up to show him
Dylan was settled.

"You noticed how shy the boy was, yes?" Dr. Takada asked the audience.
"It's something I added. A boy should never seek the attention of others.
Only his master's approval matters. He flourishes under his master's
praise, but withers when given it by others. He lives as a normal boy with
friendships and fun, but his main drive is pushed by his master, as it
should be!"

That got a few oohs and approving nods from the clients. It also explained
Dylan's behavior. Dr. Takada was showing it off. I wish he had filled me in
on that.

The documentary started and the servers came out with cocktails and
desserts but the men mostly ignored them as they were sucked in by our
film. I watched Dylan's tragedy and then recovery. I laughed watching him
perform the tricks without hesitation as I directed him. He was a beautiful
boy and a natural to sell the procedure.

The men weren't just picturing having a submissive boy, but having a
beautiful boy they could never hope to attain on their own. Sure they could
buy the affections of one, but not one who truly stood in awe of them. I
watched more than a few men adjust their laps at seeing Dylan eagerly lap
up my attention. Dr. Takada was an excellent editor.

The film ended and we got solid applause. After that, things changed. The
men leaned forward in their seats eager to learn of the procedure, the side
effects, the costs. They'd seen the results and wanted it.

They'd each meet Dylan more intimately over the next few days. We quickly
scheduled one-on-one appointments. They also liked that the boy knew
nothing of his transformation to submission. He just assumed it was natural
to follow me and obey.

We took questions from clients, but I was eager to check on my boy. It felt
strange to be away from him. I excused myself while Dr. Takada spoke and
made my way back to the waiting room.

I found the door open, but the couch empty. Where was he? I checked the
small bathroom in the waiting room but it was empty as well. I felt a sharp
stab in my heart at not knowing where he was. I went to the security team
but they were busy watching us and the clients who had hired them. I ducked
back into the conference room and scanned it, but Dylan wasn't there.

"Ahh yes, bring the boy back in," Dr. Takada called when he saw me. "We
have questions for him!" He glowed excitedly until he read the panic in my
eyes.

"He's gone! I can't find him! Has anyone seen him?" I yelled. I felt frozen
with anxiety. I scanned the room. He wasn't there. My heart sank. I looked
at every face in that room.

One of them had to know where he was. They'd all just lusted after him in
the movie and... maybe one of them had sneaked off to take him as their own.
These men have enough money to take what they want and Dylan is naive
enough to walk off with them. One of these fuckers had... I stopped myself.

There was one person missing from the crowd. The spoiled Korean kid had
been sitting with his father but now he wasn't there.

"Where's your son?" I demanded. He looked at me with shock.

"Calm down, let's not panic." Dr. Takada tried to quiet the situation.

"Check your phone. Remember? This is another innovation I discovered from a
research company in China. It's the latest software to track your boy!" Dr.
Takada was turning this into an opportunity to sell.

"Phone! Yes!" I raced up to the stand where I'd left it. Dr. Takada hooked
it up to the computer screen so everyone could see.

"This app is perfect for keeping track of your boy," he explained as it
showed behind us. "Just open it and at once you can see.... Where is he?" The
app showed our dot on the map, but not Dylan. His little happy face was not
on my screen.

He was gone... My angel was gone...



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Thank you for reading!
--
My Stories: https://sites.google.com/view/emri/
My Blog: https://emriwrites.blogspot.com/