293 Fit Model

293 The FIT Model
Part 1 of 8

Phillip Callum was still uncertain about what he should do in his young life when he caught a trailer for a Mark Wahlberg film. It was as if a light bulb had gone off inside his head. Wahlberg was a fucking huge star now, but from what Phillip had once read, early on in his career Wahlberg had done a stint of male modeling. Sure, he had been in a boy-band as well, but Wahlberg definitely got himself major exposure as an underwear model for Calvin Klein. And that was just the type of exposure Phillip was looking for.

Of course, Phillip realized that he couldn't expect to start out modeling for Calvin Klein. He'd probably have to start someplace lower in the pecking order, but male modeling seemed the ultimate way to go. He had to exploit his strengths.

The only problem Phillip could see was that there were a lot of fags in the modeling business as in acting. Everyone knew that. Hell, some of those creeps might think that Phillip was a fruit just like they were, even though he was nothing like those pansies. Some might even come on to him. Well, if any fucking faggot made a pass at him, Phillip would set him straight real fast by beating the crap out of the little fucker. Phillip was pretty confident he could handle himself around faggots - after all, he did take up boxing in high school. His concern was that a lot of people who weren't in the modeling business might think he was a fag just because he was a model, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Phillip worried about that for a while until it dawned on him that the exact same thing must have happened to Wahlberg. Of course, back then he was called Marky Mark. Many people probably thought that he was a queer, too, when his billboard picture was plastered all over the world with him wearing only white briefs, but it hadn't hurt his career. Fuck, man, nobody thinks Mark Wahlberg is a queer boy now! He’s a big, macho alpha star, just what Phillip wanted to be. Since he had a nice trim build, male modeling might be his ticket.

Once Phillip had made up his mind to give modeling a try, he realized that he didn't have the faintest idea of how to go about getting started. One thing he did know, though, was that everyone in the modeling business seemed to either work for an agency or have a personal agent. He figured he needed to get one as well.

He emailed his headshots to various major agencies during the next few months, but no one seemed interested. He received no responses from his mailings, so he decided to visit a few agencies in town. Again, he got many “We’re not currently accepting new clients, sorry.” However, after telling him no, one agency suggested DD Modeling Agency. “You might have a chance there because they have been in business only five years and aren’t well known. I really don’t know much about them, but they might want new clients,” the agent offered. “Here’s their number.”

Phillip wasted no time. He called the company on his way home and was glad to get an appointment. A few days later, upon entering the DD Modeling Agency office, he saw a sign indicating Dean DeMarco was the owner. The offices were rather plain, without much on the walls. Phillip also couldn’t help but notice that the male secretary in the front lobby area office was a rather nelly queen named Troy. After greeting Phillip, he told him to “sit your pretty ass down,” Dean DeMarco would be with him momentarily. Phillip glared at the obvious faggot but took a seat anyway. For a moment, he had a twinge of doubt as to whether he had chosen the right agency, but then the door opened, and out came Dean DeMarco, who immediately ushered him inside. It took only a few minutes for the man to put all of Phillip's fears to rest.

Right off the bat, Mr. DeMarco put Phillip at ease by telling him that, in all his years as an agent, he'd never seen any young man as good-looking as he came through his door. He expressed surprise that Phillip wasn't already under a modeling contract, which gave Phillip a good opening to express one of his major reservations.

"Well, Mr. DeMarco, to be honest with you. I always realized that I was handsome, and I've certainly given some thought in the past to modeling. It's just that … well … it's just that … that … it seemed to me to be a pretty faggy job."

There was a flicker of a smile on Mr. DeMarco's face. "I take it you're straight, Phillip," he replied.

"One hundred percent, Sir," Phillip immediately affirmed. "I’ve got nothing to do with perverts. I'm definitely one hundred percent male."

Dean DeMarco was now grinning broadly. "I'll tell you the truth, Phillip. I can't stand faggots, either. But, of course, there are laws now that prohibit discrimination, and I've got to be careful. And I'll be honest with you. There is a lot of that kind in modeling, not only as models but in many other positions, such as photographers and set designers, to say nothing of make-up artists and hairdressers. Hell, almost all the makeup artists around here are dick-guzzlers. No, you're right. If you're going to work in modeling, you're bound to be in frequent contact with a lot of queers, and you have to be able to control yourself when you are. That's just how it is, so male modeling isn't for you if you can't handle that."

At this point, Mr. DeMarco leaned forward and gave Phillip a hard stare. "But I also want you to understand that a lot of guys in this business are just as straight as you or me. Good-looking guys like yourself who are just trying to make a living with the God-given talents and looks they are fortunate enough to be blessed with. Sure, some people will think you're gay just because you're a model, but those people are ignorant losers whose opinions are driven more by jealousy over your looks and your success than by any objective analysis of the real world of modeling."

"No, Sir, I'm not going to let those losers keep me from making a success. I want to pursue a career as a model. It's just … “he added in a more uncertain voice, "It's just that I'm not sure how to do it."

"But that's why you're here, Phillip," Mr. DeMarco quickly responded. "I know how to go about doing it. Suppose you agree to have me represent you. In that case, I'll do everything in my power and use all of my contacts to see that you have a successful modeling career. The question is whether you're willing to put yourself totally in my hands."

"Yes, Mr. DeMarco, I am.” Then he paused and added, "The problem, Sir, is I don't have any money to pay you right now. I'm a student at the junior college and still living at home."

"Phillip," he said soothingly, "There's no need to worry about that. We’ll work that out later and cover your costs, such as creating a portfolio until you bring in an income.”

Then Mr. DeMarco sat back in his chair and eyed Phillip closely. "I think I'm a good judge of prospective talent, Phillip, and I'm now prepared to sign an agreement to represent you. I think you have the potential to make it really big in this business, and I'm prepared to act on that belief. The final question is, do you want DD Modeling Agency to represent you?"

"Oh yes, Sir, I do," Phillip responded enthusiastically. "I definitely do, Sir."

"Okay, then," Mr. DeMarco smiled, "What I'll do then is have my secretary, Troy, prepare a standard representation contract, and then the two of us will go over the terms - if that's okay with you."

"Oh, yes, Mr. DeMarco," Phillip readily agreed. "That would be fine.”

Phillip was pleasantly surprised by how quickly Mr. DeMarco brought him into his confidence. "You don't represent fags?" he asked in a whisper.

"Not if I can help it," Mr. DeMarco replied confidently. "I like to represent real men such as yourself, Phillip." But then his face took on a more serious expression. "However, if you would take a bit of advice from me, I'd go easy on the 'fag' and 'fairy' references from now on. As I said, many of those guys are in the business. They could stop your blooming career in a flash just by claiming harassment."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. DeMarco, it's just that that's how I've always described those guys. I've always known they didn't like it, but I never really gave a shit before. It wasn't like I was hanging out with them, but, as you say, there are a lot of fags … I mean gays … in the business, and I don't want them to screw up my career. I'll try to watch what I say, particularly around them."

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, Mr. DeMarco said, “Well, while we're waiting for Troy to get the contract prepared. I should see what we have to work with. Take off your shirt and stand up.”

After Phillip removed his shirt and Mr. DeMarco complimented him on his pecs and abs, the man asked Phillip to remove his shoes and jeans. Phillip quickly did as he was told and assumedvarious poses that highlighted different muscle groupings. Mr. DeMarco seemed generally pleased, though he hinted that Phillip's calves and thighs could do with a little more work. It wasn't until Mr. DeMarco asked Phillip to remove his socks that Phillip had cause to be concerned. He couldn't understand why this Agent would need to see his feet.

Mr. DeMarco must have sensed Phillip's reaction because he immediately explained to the boy why it was necessary. "There's a lot of work available in swimwear modeling, and most photo shoots will be set up at a beach. The model would, of course, be barefoot, so I need to know if any small deformity during the shoot might make you feel uncomfortable."

Phillip felt a little foolish for not thinking of that, so he quickly removed his socks. Still, he had to admit that he felt a little uncomfortable when Mr. DeMarco dragged a chair up to where he stood and had Phillip raise each foot in succession. At the same time, he closely examined his feet, even going so far as to put his fingers between each of Phillip's toes and run his hands up and down each sole. Having another dude playing with his feet felt weird, although Phillip tried to hide his discomfort.

When Mr. DeMarco finished his close examination of Phillip's feet and had returned his chair to its place along the wall, he told Phillip to drop his boxers. At that, the boy couldn't hide his reluctance, which Mr. DeMarco immediately picked up.

"Do we have a problem, Phillip?" he asked, a note of disapproval creeping into his voice.

"Well," Phillip stammered, "it's just … it's just I don't know why you have to see me naked. It's not like I'd be interested in working in porn."

"Oh, I understand. It can be embarrassing having a small dick, but it's not the end of the world. A lot of women swear that it isn't the size that matters. It's how you use it." He took a step back, and his gaze returned to Phillip's crotch. "Just how small is it, Phillip? Two, three inches hard?"

"No! No, that's not it - I've got a big dick, like eight inches!" he added defensively. "It's just that I'd feel funny standing naked in a room with just another guy."

Hearing his response, Mr. DeMarco's face hardened perceptively. "I've obviously misjudged you, Phillip," he began. "I thought you had what it takes to become a male model, but if you're too shy and self-conscious to expose yourself to your own agent, there's no way you could hope to succeed in the modeling world. Why don't you just put your clothes back on," he said. "I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do. At least we learned early that you weren't cut out to be a model."

"Please, Mr. DeMarco," Phillip pleaded, suddenly afraid that he had just fucked-up his first real opportunity to make something out of his life. "Give me a second chance." Phillip reached down and yanked his boxers off his waist, letting them drop to his ankles. "I'll do whatever you tell me to do. Just please give me a second chance."

Phillip thus stood in front of Mr. DeMarco, completely naked, his big dick hanging down between his legs. And it was a big dick, just as Phillip had claimed. Mr. DeMarco couldn't help but notice that naked, the kid was even better looking than he had first judged. “This kid is going to be a fucking gold mine,” he thought. He allowed his face to soften.

"Turn around, Phillip," he ordered. "That’s fine, but there are a few things we have to do a little work on, a little fine-tuning, you might say. You obviously have what it takes physically to be a first-class male model. The question now is whether or not we can provide you with the emotional and mental toughness required to be a real success."

Mr. DeMarco said, "Step fully out of your boxers, fold up your clothes, and place them on the little table in the corner," he asked in a tone that denoted an order.

The man easily read Phillip's unease. "I think, Phillip, that one of the first things we must work on is your shyness. You have an attractive body - a lovely body. You shouldn't be embarrassed about showing it off, particularly not if you hope to be a successful model. So, for the rest of the time you're here, I want you to remain naked. Also, when we meet here, you will strip down on entering my facility. It's obvious that you'll be uncomfortable at first. Still, I know that eventually, you'll be able to overcome your excessive modesty."

Phillip wasn't pleased with the prospect of spending the rest of this meeting with Mr. DeMarco in the nude. He also didn't want to upset the man by voicing any objections, especially because of how close he had just come to aborting their relationship.

"Now," Mr. DeMarco began as he scanned Phillip’s nudity, “There are a couple of different strategies we could pursue in marketing you. Considering the state of your development, you're probably too muscular for runway work. Most designers generally like their models on the thin side, and you're just too well-developed. But you definitely have the type of body that's in demand for underwear and swimsuit shoots, and we should also consider the possibility of presenting you as a physique model. Though that would require more muscle development on your part."

"What type of work does a physique model get, Mr. DeMarco? I think I have a pretty good physique, and I'd certainly like to get a job where I could exploit that."

"Well, a physique model generally appears in magazines that are interested in advertising bodybuilding spas and exercise equipment, and they are usually aimed at a male readership. Physique models are used in photo spreads that accompany articles explaining how various exercises or protein drinks will enhance the physical development of specific body areas."

"I don't know, Mr. DeMarco, if I'm okay with that. It kinda makes my skin crawl to think of one of those perverts … I mean gay guys … jerking himself off to one of my photos, particularly one in which I'm naked. It makes me want to puke just thinking about it."

“Phillip, what do you care if some sick dude jerks himself off looking at one of your photos? How the hell does that negatively affect you? It's not like you're there, watching it. The truth is, you should be happy if those guys get off on your pictures. That means they'll buy more of what your ad is selling, and you'll end up with more work, exposure, and money. Isn't that the bottom line?"

Phillip hastened to assure the man that he would try to change his ways. "I'm sorry, Mr. DeMarco. You're absolutely right. I need to keep my focus on what my ultimate goals are. I'll try working on not showing my true feelings. I really will."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Mr. DeMarco responded with a smirk as he winked at Troy.

The secretary flounced in, his effeminate persona on full display. "I have the contract ready, Mr. DeMarco," he said as he immediately stopped in front of Phillip’s stark-naked body. "Oh, isn't he a studly one," Troy cooed, ogling Phillip's nudity.

Phillip turned scarlet and instinctively moved to cover up his genitals with both hands. This brought an immediate response from Mr. DeMarco: "Move your hands away, Phillip. You have nothing to be shy or embarrassed about. Remember that. We were just discussing how you need to be able to take compliments and accept the attention you'll be receiving as a male model, and this is as good a time as any for you to begin confronting your shyness." Phillip swallowed hard and then moved his hands back to his sides. If anything, his color deepened and spread down to his shoulders and chest.

"That's good, Phillip," Mr. DeMarco praised the boy. "Now, why don't you turn and face Troy so he can get a good view of your body?"

Biting his lip, Phillip did as he'd been instructed. He’d never felt so naked and vulnerable as he did standing there, displaying his nude body, as the nelly queen giggled. "Oh, he's so butch, Mr. DeMarco," Troy said with a lisp. "I bet he's a real bull in bed." Then his eyes focused solely on Phillip's cock. He almost shrieked, "Look at his cock! He's hung like a horse!"

Phillip couldn’t remember ever having been more embarrassed as he stood there naked and with his manhood fully exposed. Troy continued to motor-mouth on about how hot he was while Phillip wanted nothing more than to smash his fist into the leering faggot's face. However, he just stood there quietly as Mr. DeMarco wanted him to.

Troy was, indeed, a gay man, but he wasn’t normally effeminate. He was just putting on a whimsical, faggotty persona to drive Phillip crazy. Both Troy and his father, Dean DeMarco, wanted to push Phillip into accepting gays, even effeminate ones, as something that just comes with the modeling profession.

Then Mr. DeMarco asked for the contract. "Oh, yes, Sir," Troy immediately replied, reluctantly yanking his eyes from Phillip's body and turning towards his boss. "Here it is, Sir. The standard contract. I'm sure you'll find everything in order."

Philip had no idea that a ‘standard contract’ was office code for a contract that had nothing to do with modeling. In fact, the DD Modeling Agency was a front for what Dean and Troy, as father and son partners, really used hunky models for - they operated a pay subscription FIT website service. They never told any of their model clients that FIT stood for ‘Fags in Training.’ The DeMarcos would secretly film their models in nude and embarrassing scenes, even sexual scenes, and air them on the FIT website for paying customers.

"I'm sure I will, Troy," Mr. DeMarco responded. "That’ll be all for now," he added, dismissing his secretary. Troy gave Phillip's body one last lingering gaze and then headed towards the door, but as he passed Phillip, he reached out and firmly grasped one of Phillip's butt-cheeks.

"Son of a bitch!" Phillip shouted as he whirled around angrily, but Troy was already walking through the doorway. He turned around, gave Phillip a wink, and then shut the door.

"Sir, that fucking faggot groped me. He fucking grabbed my ass!"

"So? He grabbed your fucking ass. Big deal. I'm sure the same thing had happened a hundred times before when you were in a locker room with one of your buddies. Am I right?"

Phillip reflected on his reaction and a strong desire to become a model and then apologized, "I'm sorry, Mr. DeMarco. If you say I overreacted, I probably did. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"I'm going to let it pass this time, Phillip, but that's something we're going to have to work on here before we send you out on photo shoots."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir." Phillip was grateful that Mr. DeMarco was willing to forgive his indiscretion.

"Phillip, pull up a chair and sit down. I want to go over this agreement with you."

"Yes, Sir," Phillip replied, quickly pulling a chair over to the desk. He was going to place it in front of the desk, but Mr. DeMarco motioned that he should pull it alongside his own. It was a tight fit for two chairs behind the desk, but Mr. DeMarco moved his chair slightly, and both chairs could fit.

As Phillip Callum sat down, he was suddenly reminded that he was still completely naked. His balls got a little scrunched up by his thighs, and he was forced to reach down and physically readjust his junk. It was pretty embarrassing, handling himself so intimately with his Agent just inches away. Phillip was pretty sure he was blushing when he got himself properly settled. Mr. DeMarco didn't make any comments. He just smiled at Phillip, patted him on the knee, and moved the contract to the desk so they could read it.

Phillip leaned forward a little and was about to begin reading the contract when Mr. DeMarco reached out, picked up his phone, and hit the intercom button. "Troy, would you bring in a glass of water for Mr. Callum? He's probably pretty thirsty by now."

"It might be good if you apologized to Troy when he brings the water in. The two of you will be working closely from now on, and it's better if you don't start out with a strained relationship."

Phillip was disconcerted by this last statement and blurted out, "But I thought I'd be working with you, Mr. DeMarco."

"Oh, you will," the Agent immediately reassured him. "You'll be working very closely with me from now on. But Troy is part of our agency team, too. He's not just a first-class secretary. He's also an excellent photographer in his own right. He'll be taking the pictures for your comp cards next week and be in charge of your personal grooming. So, it's important for you to have a good working relationship with him regardless of your personal misgivings."

"Yes, Sir," Phillip responded sadly. He was about to question just how Troy would be in charge of Phillip's grooming when the door opened, and Troy fluttered in.

“God,” Phillip thought, “This bitch has got to be the nelliest flamer I've ever seen.” But mindful of Mr. DeMarco's lecture, Phillip managed to plaster a pained smile onto his face as Troy handed him the glass of water. Phillip thanked him.

"I also want to apologize if I offended you earlier, Troy. I'm sorry if I did." He inwardly cringed hearing himself apologizing to this fucking fruit basket, but he hoped he'd done it without showing how he really felt.

Troy stood there smiling, letting his eyes rake up and down Phillip's naked body, forcing the boy to visibly squirm in the chair. "Oh, don't you worry, honey? A pretty boy like you with such a hot bod is bound to be a little skittish at first. But we'll work it out, don't you fret. We'll be like sisters before you know it. Real close buddies." Then Troy smirked, "If you know what I mean." With that, Troy turned and left the room.

"Have a drink of water, Phillip," he suggested, "and we'll get started." Stifling his irritation, Phillip grabbed the glass, took several large swallows, and then turned his attention to the paperwork.

Phillip appreciated the care Mr. DeMarco took in explaining all the contract terms to him. However, he skipped over most of it, indicating they were the “unimportant parts, just boilerplate stuff.” As Mr. DeMarco advised, it was a standard exclusive-modeling contract except for one or two alterations. Mr. DeMarco explained that, under its terms, Phillip agreed to accept DD Modeling Agency as his exclusive personal manager for modeling, advertising, and entertainment purposes during the contract term, which was two years from the date of signing. That meant that Phillip had to inform Mr. DeMarco of any other offers of employment made directly to Phillip in any of those fields and refer those offers to him.

The FIT Model
Part 2 of 8

Then they discussed the terms of the contract. By signing, Phillip also gave the Agency the exclusive authority to use and distribute any and all likenesses of him in all forms of media. As Phillip read along, he asked, “What’s this part here about my giving you total control over all FIT Website shows and all funds derived from there?”

Mr. DeMarco was surprised that the boy actually picked up on that. “Oh, that. Well, that means that if you are fortunate enough to land a fashion job of international scope, such as doing a swimsuit show in a live podcast, you’ll be able to accept it and show your assets all over the globe. Now, don’t get your hopes up - that part may never happen - but we like to put in every possible option where we can work with you.” Then he added, “But never mind that for now. Let’s focus on the basics first, like getting you ready to model and teaching you all the tricks of the trade so we can hire you out.”

“Oh, and have more water - it’s good for you,” he said as Phillip guzzled more down. The Agent quickly skimmed through the part that allowed others it licensed to use and distribute all pictures and other images of Phillip in connection with advertising and publicity and for all other purposes covered by the contract. By signing this agreement, Phillip also agreed to accept Dean DeMarco's counsel in all matters relating to employment and other endeavors involving modeling, advertising, and entertainment. In exchange for the Agency's efforts to promote him and help him find employment, Phillip agreed to pay the Agency fifty percent of all money received for any work in the modeling, advertising, or entertaining fields during the agreement term.

“Because our percentage is somewhat high. We expressly provide an escape clause. That is to say that after six months if you are dissatisfied with our performance, you may unilaterally withdraw from the contract and sign with another agency.” That made Phillip feel protected and better about everything. He could cancel in six months!

"The other thing that provision covers is regarding physical alterations. I don't want you going out and changing the way you look. No wild haircuts, no tats, no piercings. Is that understood, Phillip?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip immediately replied. “It all seems fine to me, Sir.” He hadn’t read through every paragraph, but who does these days?

"Then let's do it." Mr. DeMarco picked up a pen and signed as the Agency. He slid the contract over to Phillip and passed him the pen. Trying to tamp down his excitement, Phillip carefully added his signature above his typed name. He couldn't believe it - he now had an Agent!

Mr. DeMarco glanced down and saw Phillip's eight-inch rod shooting straight up from his pubes. Phillip thought he was going to die of embarrassment. "No need to be embarrassed. A young stud like you probably gets hard ten times a day. Happens to all of my younger male models now and again, and I'm sure this won't be the last time it happens to you, so don't worry about it.”

While Mr. DeMarco was staring at his boner. Phillip had been thinking he was now at the most consequential moment of his life. Having just launched himself on a path that would be a new, successful career. But suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to cover himself up. There he was, flashing a big boner as if he were some high school junior who'd been having dirty dreams during a boring chemistry lecture.

“You're nervous. I understand. Have a few more sips of water - it’ll calm you down,” Mr. DeMarco told him. But he didn’t tell Phillip why drinking this water was so important, and that was because of its special ingredient, an erotic stimulator, a boner producer!

Phillip drank more, then said, "Yeah," he responded quietly, "I guess it is about eight inches like I said."

"You guess?" Dean DeMarco immediately replied in a tone of surprise. "Haven't you ever measured it?" Phillip shook his head no.

"Well, we can take care of that right now. Stand up and move into the center of the room where there is better light.” Mr. DeMarco said as he opened his desk drawer and removed a ruler. Phillip's mind was just beginning to process what was happening when Mr. DeMarco reached out with his right hand and grabbed a firm hold of Phillip's erect penis. Holding it straight into the air, the man brought the ruler up next to Phillip's cock with his other hand and then leaned down so that his face was just inches from the boy's crotch. "Eight and a half inches," Mr. DeMarco declared.

This would be a great moment for all the subscribers to watch. Phillip had never noticed cameras hidden in light fixtures in every corner of the room. By placing Phillip in the middle of the room and turning him by his erect dick, they created a fantastic image. Some of the video feed was live, but not this part. Dean DeMarco collected all sorts of footage that would later be edited and made into a video. He needed to introduce Phillip Callum gradually. Then, after viewers got to know him and requested to see him live, he would be broadcast live. But we are getting way ahead of ourselves.

Phillip stood there in shock. Mr. DeMarco didn’t just touch his cock. He grabbed it, held on to it, and even spun him around, using his dick as a leash. And he was still holding on to it! Another man was holding on to his fully engorged cock, and Phillip was just allowing himself to be maneuvered around. But what was most upsetting for Phillip was that his cock acted as if it enjoyed it. Phillip could feel it throbbing and pulsing, like when he plowed some bitch. It felt so good, so terrific, and so wrong, so very wrong, all simultaneously. He shouldn't be getting hot while some dude held on to his cock. No fucking way! But Phillip could still feel his sexual excitement rising. Then, just to make his humiliation total, he saw his slit open and a large dollop of pre-cum bubble its way to the head of his cock. AND MR. DEMARCO WAS STILL HOLDING IT! Phillip was completely humiliated and embarrassed.

Mr. DeMarco noticed Phillip's distress. "What's the matter, Phillip?" he asked with obvious concern.

Phillip was simply too embarrassed to answer, but Mr. DeMarco managed to guess the problem. "Are you still embarrassed because you're throwing a rod? Is that it?"

"It's...it's not just that," Phillip eventually managed to stammer out.

"What then?" Mr. DeMarco pressed. "Is it because I'm holding your cock? Is that it? Or," Mr. DeMarco added with a glance down at Phillip's throbbing boner, "is it because you're leaking so much pre-cum?"

Phillip followed Mr. DeMarco's glance down to his cock. He was abashed to see that his cock head was completely coated with pre-cum, and more was continuously leaking out of his hard tube. "Oh, God, Mr. DeMarco, I'm so sorry. I'm really not that way. Really! I'm not a faggot. I'm really not. I don't know what's happening to me."

Looking at Phillip, he could tell the boy was on the verge of tears. He could only imagine how Phillip would react if he were to experience an orgasm right now. It would be a real hoot to bring him off and get him to shoot a full load right there and then, but Mr. DeMarco didn't want to hurry things. He glanced up at the left corner of his office, where there was a hidden camera, and winked. Then, slowly, he removed his hand from Phillip's cock. He placed his hand on the boy's thigh and squeezed it paternally.

Mr. DeMarco had hidden cameras to capture models from every important angle. Of course, no one but he and Troy knew about them. The idea was to make spy videos of certain clients, such as Phillip, whom he wanted to feature on his FIT Website to sell subscriptions. Unbeknownst to the models, FIT stood for “Fags in Training.” It wasn’t his main business - being a modeling agent was his real money maker - but this side adventure was certainly much more interesting and exciting. It’s what he and his son, Troy, lived for - they were partners in crime, or at least in exploitation.

"Really, Phillip, it's nothing to be upset about. It's totally natural for a young stud like you to be easily aroused. It's nothing to be ashamed of! Hell, you should be proud you have such a sensitive cock - and such a big one, too. I bet the bitches love you in bed. I bet you're a real stud in the sack." Mr. DeMarco explained.

"Well," Phillip slowly managed to answer, "I haven't had any complaints in that department, that's for sure." He was so relieved by the way Mr. DeMarco was handling the situation. The man was such a professional. He felt he had made a smart decision by signing him on as his Agent and personal manager.

Seeing that Phillip was calming down, Mr. DeMarco removed his hand from the boy's leg and suggested that he get up and stand in front of the desk. "Now that we're in business together, I want to guide you on how we will proceed." Phillip liked hearing that.

Mr. DeMarco looked at Phillip for a long moment. Then he asked him to assume various poses which emphasized different muscle groups. In truth, Phillip had frequently struck some of these poses before, but he'd done them in front of a mirror in the privacy of his bedroom. It felt very different to be striking the same pose in front of another person, particularly since Phillip was not only naked but also had a fully erect cock jutting straight into the air. Phillip couldn't shake the feeling that there was something vaguely obscene in the positions he was striking since they seemed to emphasize not only his muscular development but also the hard cock bobbing between his legs.

Truth is, Dean DeMarco, had truly struck gold. As his model-in-training posed, several hidden cameras were filming him from different angles. This was exactly the material that his Fags in Training Website clients feasted on. Of course, it all had to be properly edited by Troy before airing, and they needed many hours of raw video capturing Phillip in various stages of erotic-to-obscene model training before they could release any of it.

After at least fifteen minutes of posing, Mr. DeMarco told him he could stop. Phillip was thirsty by then and grateful his Manager was observant enough to notice this and suggest he have some more water. Yes, that special water. After Phillip finished drinking, Mr. DeMarco asked him to take a few steps back from the desk, spread his legs apart, raise his arms, place his hands behind his neck, and lock his fingers together. Phillip did as he was directed and then, at Mr. DeMarco’s further suggestion, spread his elbows apart so they were parallel to the floor.

“That's a great pose for you, Phillip, so from now on, I'd like you to assume that pose whenever you're just standing in front of me." Again Phillip, not thinking all that clearly, readily agreed.

"Now," Mr. DeMarco said, assuming a more serious air, "Let's get down to brass tacks. You have a very nicely developed body, particularly your upper body. However, your thighs and calves are a little less well-developed, so we must work on them. Furthermore, while your total body fat looks to be around ten to eleven percent which is fine for swimsuit and underwear modeling, the standards for physique models are somewhat lower, around seven or eight percent. I think it'd be best to aim for that level of body fat in order to give you the greatest range of options for future work. So as of now, you will begin a more regimented physical training program which I will direct." Phillip, at this point, was all “Yes, Sirs.”

As he spoke, Mr. DeMarco imagined Phillip exercising in the small gym he had set up down the hall from his office. This was the room he maintained just to get hot video footage that captured his naked models lifting weights with boners.

"Okay, then, here's what I want you to do." He then laid out a vigorous training schedule that Phillip wanted to follow. Generally, it called for less weight and more repetitions for the upper body and slowly increasing weights for his thighs and calves, which Mr. DeMarco wanted to build up. It also involved a rigorous running regimen to help lower Phillip's body-fat percentages and a tightly controlled diet. “You will be working out three days a week and using the gym here, so I can monitor your progress.”

"The one thing I want to emphasize, Phillip," Mr. DeMarco concluded, "is the importance of maintaining hydration and body energy levels. As far as hydration is concerned, you must maintain a high level of water intake. And, with respect to the maintenance of energy levels, we've developed a formula that seems to work exceptionally well over the years. We've contracted with a local bottled water company, and they provide us with bottles of water with the appropriate doses of energy supplement already mixed in."

"Thank you for letting me use your private gym. And I'll gladly use the supplement, Sir - how much does it cost?"

"Actually, it’s somewhat expensive to formulate, but you don't have to worry about that. You're our client, Phillip. We'll provide you with the use of the gym and the supplement for free. Troy will give you a couple dozen bottles before you leave - you should drink two or three bottles every day."

"Oh, thank you, Sir," Phillip responded with relief. He had scarcely twenty dollars to his name right then, and furthermore, his tight wad of a father sure as hell wouldn't give him anymore just to buy an energy supplement.

Mr. DeMarco nodded his head and then stood up. "Well, I think we're done here. You can get dressed now, Phillip. On your way out, have Troy schedule you for a three-hour photo session next Tuesday and a standard two-hour session on Friday. Also, ask him for our energy supplement, enough to last you until Tuesday."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir," Phillip replied as he left the office.

The door then opened, and Troy strode into the room. "Jesus H. Christ," he exclaimed. "What a fucking find!" The change in Dean DeMarco's secretary was startling. Gone was the phony swishy, mincing walk, the high voice with a hint of a lisp. In its place was a confident, masculine young stud, grinning from ear to ear, with a confident stride and a deep masculine voice.

"I didn't overdo it with the nelly queen shit, did I, Dad?"

"No, Troy, you were perfect and the perfect son to work with me. That dumb fuck just ate it up. Keep it up for the next couple of weeks, and then you can slowly ease out of that faggotty behavior."

"But Troy, I will need your full attention. I want to work out our program for Phillip and ensure we're on the same page. I don't want you fucking things up like you did with Keith."

"Jesus, Dad, how many more times am I going to hear about Keith? Yeah, I fucked that up - I know that. But that was over a year ago, and I’ve learned my lesson. If you want to take it slow with Phillip, I'll take it slow - just tell me what you want me to do. You don't need to keep harping on Keith." Troy let out an exasperated sigh. "What do you want me to do?"

Over the next half hour, Mr. DeMarco laid out his plan of attack. When he was done, Troy looked at his father and said, "You're a fucking genius, Dad! You really are. I will head for home, but I'll take the tapes with me and start working on them."

"Did you watch them at all?" his father asked. When Troy nodded 'yes,' he continued, "How were they?"

"Super, Dad. They were great. I loved the footage where you had him posing with his big juicy hard-on bopping around everywhere. You did everything but make him twerk."

"It's fine if you want to get the tapes ready right away, Troy, but I'm not posting them on our Fags in Training Website for a while yet. I want to ensure we have at least four or five sessions in the can before introducing him to the viewers. A guy like Phillip figures to be really popular. I don't want to give the regular subscribers just one or two episodes and then tell them that's all we've got like we had to do with Keith! That just pisses them off. I want to make sure we have enough footage to keep them satisfied for at least a month before we start uploading footage onto the site and, as far as the premium subscribers are concerned, I personally want to be sure we'll be able to deliver the goods before we even start advertising Phillip."

By Tuesday, Phillip had difficulty controlling his excitement. It would be his first photo shoot, and Phillip had been hitting the gym just like Mr. DeMarco had told him to, even though he disliked doing his gym workout naked. Even so, in just a few days, Phillip was sure he could see greater definition in his pecs and abs; even his thighs looked slightly bigger. He was really anxious to show Mr. DeMarco how well he'd done, and it might just be this heightened anticipation that led to all the problems he would come to encounter during that session.

He had shown up slightly early, dressed in what he thought was a fashionable pair of tan slacks and a pale blue Polo shirt that really showed off his muscular arms. He had been careful to jerk-off right before he left home. He'd been incredibly horny the last few days, probably a combination of the rigorous exercise schedule and his increased energy levels due to Mr. DeMarco's energy supplement. And going commando, as Mr. DeMarco had directed him to do from now on, seemed only to exacerbate it.

Though Phillip tried in vain to get his dick to stay decently deflated. He was sporting another full boner when he stopped by Troy's desk. And, of course, that fucking faggot noticed it immediately. He'd made a point of staring straight at Phillip's crotch before looking up and saying, in that grating effeminate voice of his, "Honey, I see you're as excited to see me as I am to see you." And then the flaming queer reached down and groped himself right in front of Phillip. It was really disgusting. Normally, Phillip would have laid him out right there, but he reminded himself that he would be working closely with Troy now that he had signed with DD Modeling Agency, not to mention that Mr. DeMarco had expressly stated that he wanted the two of them to get along. So, he forced himself to ignore the blatant come-on and simply replied, "Hello, Troy. I'm here for my 1:00 p.m. appointment."

"Yes, your photo-shoot. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it." While Troy's comment wasn't particularly off the mark. There was just something about the tone in which he made it that made Phillip's skin crawl.

Dean DeMarco was on the phone when Phillip entered, but he motioned him in and pointed to the front of his desk. As Phillip stood there, trying not to listen in on the phone conversation, he noticed that various floodlights had been set up in the far area with many windows. This room was like a semi-separate extension to the office, with a small sofa that had originally been set against the wall but was now positioned to face the window. The bright afternoon sun shone directly on it, and obviously, part of the photo shoot would take place over there. Phillip was still studying the set-up when he heard Mr. DeMarco say goodbye and hang up the phone. Phillip turned to face the man and was immediately unsettled to see that Mr. DeMarco did not seem pleased.

"Is anything the matter, Mr. DeMarco?" he quickly asked.

"Yes, there actually is, Phillip. I thought we had agreed that the first thing you would do when you came into my office was to remove your clothing. Yet you've been here five minutes and are still fully dressed."

"Oh, sorry, Sir. I forgot," Phillip mumbled apologetically, reaching down to untie his shoes and remove his socks. In less than a minute, he was fully naked and standing in front of Mr. DeMarco's desk, his arms at his sides. But, rather than being pleased, Mr. DeMarco seemed even more exasperated.

"Didn't we also discuss the proper position for you when standing before my desk, Phillip?"

"Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir," Phillip immediately responded as he spread his legs far apart and placed his hands behind his neck, lacing his fingers together, carefully ensuring his elbows were parallel to the floor. It did somewhat strain his upper back muscles, but he held that position even as he felt himself blushing hotly.

"I realize this is all new to you, but that really doesn't matter. Anyone who hires you expects to be hiring a professional, and you're expected to act like one. I won't send any model out of here for any assignment unless I'm personally satisfied that he will perform satisfactorily. And right now, I have to say I wouldn't feel confident sending you out. I'm sorry, Phillip, but I'm disappointed in you."

As Phillip stood there absorbing this tongue-lashing. He could feel all the confidence he had had when he walked through the door rapidly deflate. He felt like a little boy being told how much he had disappointed his parents, and it reminded him of the many times his Father had ragged on him about what a total loser he was. Phillip no longer gave a damn what his Father thought. He really wanted Dean DeMarco's approval, and he wanted it badly. Dean DeMarco held the keys to Phillip's entire future in his hands, and Phillip was aware of how amazing it was that a man of Dean DeMarco's caliber would take a personal interest in him. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was to disappoint this man.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. DeMarco, Sir," he apologized, his voice almost breaking as if about to cry despite his efforts not to. Phillip could feel a single tear trickle down his cheek.

At that, the look of concern on Mr. DeMarco's face softened noticeably. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and slowly moved from behind the desk until he stood right before the boy. He raised a finger and softly wiped away the tear from Phillip's face.

"I am disappointed in you, Phillip, but there's no need to cry about it. You have to learn to take criticism in this business. No one likes to hear it, but it's nothing to cry over."

"It's not that, Sir," Phillip replied, embarrassed that he had shed a tear and terrified that more might be behind it. Mr. DeMarco asked him what the problem was then.

"It's just that … it's that I'm afraid you might think I'm too much trouble. You'll just tell me to pack up my shit and get out of here." Phillip was really close to losing it now, and he knew it.

Mr. DeMarco stepped forward and suddenly pulled Phillip into a tight embrace. "Phillip, Phillip," he murmured into the boy's ear as he pressed his head into his chest. "That's not going to happen.” Phillip was a little uncomfortable at first since he was naked. His hard cock was being crushed up against his Agent’s groin. Still, he felt relieved when he heard Mr. DeMarco wouldn't dissolve their relationship. Phillip didn’t pick up on the fact that Mr. DeMarco held him in a full bear-hug of an embrace for a long time, stroking him on his naked backside, petting him like a large animal. It also never occurred to Phillip that this embrace didn’t feel weird or strange.

The F.I.T. Model
Part 3 of 8

After a couple more seconds, Mr. DeMarco released his grip on the boy and stepped back, but he kept his eyes fixed on Phillip's as he softly explained why he had been so critical of the boy. "The reason I'm hard on you isn't that I'm getting ready to quit you. It's because I have such big plans for your future. I want you to think of me as a surrogate father. Just like I already think of you as one of my own sons. I'm going to be tough on you. I will correct you when you screw up, which won't be pleasant. Do you think you can accept that, Phillip?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. DeMarco. I'll do anything that you tell me to. And if I screw up, I want you to correct me. I need it. I need you to help me reach my full potential as a model. Please tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. I promise."

"Good boy. I want you to remember that we're family here regardless of any criticisms I may voice.” With that, Mr. DeMarco gave Phillip's ass a friendly slap and then walked back to his desk and sat down. “OK, why don't you show me the poses you've been working on over the past few days?"

Immediately, Phillip resumed the proper position before Mr. DeMarco's desk. Over the next five minutes, the man directed him through a number of the posing positions they'd previously practiced. Mr. DeMarco seemed pleased with Phillip's progress, but then he shouted, "Oh no! We haven’t taken baseline measurements of your body yet, Phillip!"

"Shit," Mr. DeMarco exclaimed. He reached over to the intercom and said, "Troy, could you come in here?"

"Are we ready to begin the photo-shoot, Mr. DeMarco?" the secretary asked.

"Not yet, Troy, but soon. Right now, I want to take baseline measurements of Phillip's body." He searched his top drawer for a cloth tape measure and tossed it to Troy. “Let’s start with the chest.

Phillip wasn't pleased with the prospect of having Troy do the measuring but considering what had already transpired this afternoon. He had no intention of voicing the smallest resistance. He steeled himself not to physically react when Troy touched him, and boy, did Troy touch him.

In his gut, Philip was steaming over that bitch, squeezing his nipple, which he did periodically. Yet, despite the way Troy kept fondling his body. Philip managed to keep his reactions in check until the very end.

Phillip thought the measurements were complete after Troy dropped to his knees and measured Phillip's thighs and calves. It had been hard not to react when Troy's hands glided up and down his inner thighs. Phillip was surprised at how sensitive that area was - his cock visibly jerked as Troy's feathery touch played across his skin. Still, he made it through those measurements without visibly flinching. He was just beginning to relax, figuring the ordeal was over, when Troy reached up and grabbed Phillip's totally erect penis.

"Jesus Christ," Phillip exclaimed, stepping backward out of his reach.

"What are doing, Troy?" he heard Mr. DeMarco ask.

"Measuring Phillip's big dick, Sir." Mr. DeMarco couldn't see it, but Troy actually licked his lips as he said that.

"You just leave Phillip's dick alone, Troy," Mr. DeMarco sternly replied. "I've already taken those measurements. He's eight and a half inches."

"That will be enough, Troy," Mr. DeMarco said in a no-argument tone. "Phillip is somewhat self-conscious about his body, which we must work on. So, I don't want you making him uncomfortable right before his first photo shoot.”

"Yes, Sir, Mr. DeMarco. I'm sorry, Sir." Troy quickly responded, exchanging smirks with his boss-dad without Phillip’s notice.

Mr. DeMarco was anxious to move the session along. "Okay, Troy, I want you to look at Phillip and decide exactly what needs to be done before we begin the shoot."

"Well, first off, he needs a shave. I'd recommend a full-body one."

Phillip was thinking negatively about that in his mind when he heard Mr. DeMarco say, "I was thinking the same thing - it should all go." Then, despite his resolution not to, Phillip objected.

"Phillip, I realize from your reaction that this may be difficult for you, but I need you to know it's something I think is absolutely necessary if you're going to reach your full potential. You want to be an underwear and FITness model. As an underwear model, your main purpose is to provide a backdrop for the underwear and swimsuits you will be modeling. That's the bottom line. Anything that detracts from that also detracts from your value as a model."

Phillip could follow the logic, but he was appalled at the prospect of losing all his body hair. "Couldn’t you just leave a small patch right above my cock?" he wondered. "That way, I wouldn't feel like such a little boy."

"I'm sorry, Phillip," the man concluded, "but that's the type of sacrifice a model must make if he wants to succeed in this business."

Phillip looked at Mr. DeMarco. He really, really didn't want to shave off his pubes, but his agent clearly thought it would help his career. So, Phillip agreed. "If that's what you think I should do, I'll do it, Mr. DeMarco."

The warm smile on his Agent’s face convinced Phillip that he had made the right choice. "Good boy," Mr. DeMarco replied. "Good boy." He then returned to the other side of the desk. "Well, let's get it done. Troy, go get the razors and the shaving cream, and Phillip, you can assume the position you were in, and when Troy gets back, he can start right in."

"I can shave myself, Sir. There's no need to have Troy do it."

"Of course, you can shave yourself, Phillip. You're going to be doing it every day from now on. But right now, I want Troy to do it - he has much more experience shaving a guy's body than you do, and I want this completed as quickly as possible.”

Everything that had gone on in front of Mr. DeMarco’s desk was caught on video from three different angles. The initial argument about Phillip’s naked stance and the tears that followed, the very, very long embrace of the naked boy as Mr. DeMarco petted him lovingly, and WOW, yes, the entire naked measuring task - all of it was now in the raw video footage to be edited by Troy later, and this was all pure gold. When edited into a smooth-flowing film, it would be aired on DeMarco’s pay-per-view Fags in Training Website, and nothing is as valuable as a true spy video. Those would then be followed by the shaving scenes to come, and … fuck … the photo shoot after that would be the most valuable of all. FIT Website members would pay premium rates for this kind of rape of innocence!

A few minutes later, Troy returned with razors, shaving cream, and a pail of warm water. Troy placed the pail and the razors on the floor and approached Phillip while shaking the shaving cream can in his hand. Beginning with his armpits, Troy lathered up Phillip's torso down to and including his pubic hair. When he felt Troy’s hands rubbing the shaving cream onto his cock and balls, Phillip couldn't help but shiver. Oddly, or perhaps stupidly, Phillip never thought about the strangeness of doing this sort of shaving in front of Mr. DeMarco’s desk – after all, there was a bathroom just a few feet away - but instead, he was being shaved totally right out in the open. Phillip was simply too distracted by his concern about being shaved to think about where he was.

The only good thing Phillip could say about the procedure was that Mr. DeMarco was right. Troy was really shaving him quickly. Other than that, though, it was a particularly humiliating experience standing there as another dude shaved off his chest hairs, treasure trail, and his pubes as well. There was also a moment of fear when Troy grabbed his balls, held them tightly around the sack, and razored over them. That felt really strange, but Troy must have known what he was doing because he managed it without any nicks.

Phillip sighed in relief when Troy finally finished. He glanced down at his torso and grimaced. God, he looked like a ten-year-old boy, even with his big cock jutting straight out of his now hairless crotch. If anything, the very size of his meat seemed to draw attention to the fact that he now totally lacked any pubes. Despite what Mr. DeMarco had told him. Phillip knew he'd be humiliated if any other dude ever saw him like this.

Phillip looked up just in time to see Troy once again shaking the can of shaving cream. The next thing he knew, Troy had dropped to his knees and began to slather the cream up and down his thighs. "What are you doing?" Phillip shouted, but not too loudly.

"I'm getting ready to shave your legs," Troy smirked back at him. "You didn't think we were done, did you? I've still got your legs and arms to shave."

"What?" Phillip exclaimed. "Mr. DeMarco?" he queried.

"I thought we had agreed that you'd have a full body shave, Phillip. Isn't that what you agreed to, not more than thirty minutes ago?"

Now it was Phillip's turn to register confusion. "We agreed that I'd shave my torso and pubes. I didn't realize you wanted my entire body shaved, including my legs and arms. That's something bitches … I mean women … do."

"I've been really patient with you, Phillip, but I think it's time you made a choice. Are you going to commit yourself to becoming a top-flight model, and I mean really commit yourself? Or are you just going to stand there and second-guess everything I recommend? Because if it's the latter, maybe we should just call it quits right now. I don’t want to upset you, Phillip, but this pains me. I feel a bit like your Father in that I can’t stand to see you hurt or upset, although apparently, modeling is not for you, so I want to apologize.” Then he sadly looked at Troy, ” Go get his contract and just tear it up now so Phillip won’t be offended anymore,” he said as Troy got up and went into the outer office.

Phillip could feel his entire body turning beet red. He was also furious with himself for once again jeopardizing his whole career. Mr. DeMarco was right - not more than half an hour earlier, Phillip had assured him that he'd do everything the man recommended. Yet, there he was once again, quibbling with him. Phillip began apologizing as abjectly as he could. "I'm so, so, so, sorry, Mr. DeMarco. You're absolutely right - I'm acting like a baby. Please give me another chance, and I'll never question another one of your suggestions. I'll do whatever you tell me to do - no arguments - but please just give me another chance. Please, Mr. DeMarco? Please?"

"I think you're sincere, Phillip," the man said, "So I'm going to let this last little outburst pass. But I want you to know I intend to keep you to your promise. The next time I won't be so lenient. The next time you disappoint me, I'll have no choice but to discipline you. You understand that, don't you, Phillip?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip dutifully replied, but he hadn’t really registered the word “discipline.”

So, Phillip placidly stood there as Troy completed the denuding of his body. He didn't even say anything as his beautiful long legs and muscular arms were shaved. But suddenly, Troy was behind him and put a firm hand on his back, pushing him to bend over. Phillip did bend a little, but Troy nudged him harder, and Phillip had no choice but to bend all the way over and grab his calves. At first, he felt odd in this doubled-over position, wondering if the backs of his legs would be shaved even closer, but then he felt Troy put shaving cream on his ass crack! In his mind, Phillip yelled and screamed, “You fucking bastard! Get your faggot hands off my ass, you scumbag, queer slimeball!” but in reality, he held his position, bent fully over and, although he was furious at what Troy was doing, he didn’t move or make a sound.

Suddenly, and without warning, Troy abruptly jammed a finger fully up Phillip’s asshole, bending his finger into a curve like a hook. Troy put his mouth near Phillip’s ear and whispered so Mr. DeMarco couldn’t hear: “I just need to hold you still, so I won’t cut you while I shave your fuck-hole pussy.”

Phillip was both outraged and extremely humiliated. He wanted to scream, “GET YOUR FUCKING FAGGOT HANDS OFF ME, NOW!” but he didn’t. Instead, he teared up like the little boy he felt like. Then Troy whispered, “Spread your feet further apart, my silly little boy-slut.” Phillip did. Since he was bent way over with his eyes closed. He never noticed what his dick was doing. It was as hard as ever and dripping continuous strings of pre-cum.

Meanwhile, Mr. DeMarco stepped out to do something, knowing he could watch all the raw video later to see the sexual assault his son, Troy, was committing on the boy. His being absent at this time also allowed him to say later to Phillip, “Troy did what? Are you sure? I wasn’t there, or I would have stopped him.”

With Troy’s finger hooked into Phillip’s asshole. It was challenging to shave the full ass crack free of hair. But, as you might guess, that was not the most important thing going on right then – this was Troy’s way of establishing sexual control of his new boy-toy model and getting fabulous video footage for the FIT Website subscribers simultaneously.

“OK, now you’ve got to do a better job. Squat a little bit and bend your knees to push your cunt hole toward me. That’s a good fuck boy pussy.” In this position, Phillip’s dick was like a rigid pole pointing between his legs to the floor and dripping. His dick also seemed to have more girth. It was bigger around, heavy and full.

“Since you are doing so well and being so obedient. I’ll tell Mr. DeMarco that you’ve been the best model we have ever had. Mr. DeMarco will be so very pleased with you! I will tell him you cooperated fully and never complained or said a single word. Trust me - he’ll be thrilled and very gratified.” Phillip hung onto those words as if they were a mantra. He believed them all and continued to do whatever Troy told him to do, never resisting.

“And while I’m down here inside your pussy hole, Mr. DeMarco also wants me to give you a prostate exam, so I’ll do that now. I just need to insert a second finger inside your twat.” Troy then slid a second finger inside Phillip’s asshole, causing him to buck a few times. Phillip mostly managed to stay in exactly the position so as not to seem to resist,

“You ever had a prostate exam before?”

Phillip mumbled a “No,” and that was what Troy hoped he would say - now Troy could make up anything, and it would seem believable.

“Well, it’s kind of technical. I’ll start that as soon as I finish your ass shaving, but I’ll keep my two fingers up your fuck cave just to help you loosen up for the exam.”

Finally, Troy finished shaving Phillip’s body, and, except for the hair on his head, Phillip was completely denuded. Troy then moved all the shaving stuff aside with his free hand and said to Phillip, “OK, now for the exam. To do this correctly, I need to lightly rub your prostate with my finger up your pussy at the same time that I touch your dick. I’m not saying I understand this, but it’s done all the time, especially to fucked-out faggots like you. There’s something about touching your dick that causes the prostate to react, and from that reaction, I can tell if you have a prostate issue or not. All you have to do is stay very still.” Then he changed his voice to a more serious tone, “I mean that, Phillip. If you move, I’ll have to start this whole fucking thing all over again, and believe me, I really don’t want my finger inside any guy’s asshole any longer than necessary, especially a boy pussy slut like you. OK? JUST DON’T FUCKING MOVE. I WANT THIS DONE ASAP.”

Phillip wanted to at least tell him his legs were getting cramped in this squatting position, but he kept silent. He just stood there, feet apart, knees bent, and with his head practically kissing his knees. Troy then began to slowly twist his fingers inside the boy’s asshole and, after a few moments, Phillip began to softly groan. Then, with his other hand, Troy lightly touched the mushroom head of the boy’s fiercely stiff, dripping dick. A mess of precum was all over it, and Troy began to lightly rub the goo all around the dick head. Phillip moaned and groaned. His legs were cramped, and his body was shaking just a bit in slight, involuntary tremors.

Of course, Phillip had been drinking that special water as ordered, which, unbeknownst to him, made him overly horny - that’s why he was beating off so many times a day. But right then, he was required to keep his hands stuck to his calves while Troy massaged his dick, rubbing his stiff, throbbing shaft slowly up and down. The fingers up his asshole never stopped rotating, and they then started slowly, very slowly, moving in and out. It was a bit like a corkscrew, twisting one way, going up fully in, and then twisting the other way as they slowly pulled out. Phillip subconsciously jerked his hips not away but backward, attempting to get the fingers deeper inside him as well as to get them to move faster and with more force. Phillip didn’t even realize he was doing that, but there was no question of who controlled Phillip’s body, and it wasn’t Phillip.

Troy continued slowly stroking the boy’s big, fat, twitching dick. The problem for Phillip was that his dick needed just a tiny bit more friction to blast off. However, Troy was expert enough in erotic torture to know exactly how to touch Phillip’s cock without triggering a climax. Troy had developed this very unusual and sophisticated technique of applying just enough erotic stimulation to keep Philip just below the threshold that would cause him to climax, the idea being to find the right level of contact and to maintain that EXACT level: NEVER increase it, NEVER decrease it. The victim, in this case, Phillip, would soon go into some sort of convulsions. His body would be overly stimulated and crave a climax -- demand a climax––and would soon begin to jerk and spasm uncontrollably without shooting off.

The muscle fatigue tremors Phillip was experiencing due to his squatting stance added to the overall weakness of his body. His hips jerked as he softly murmured, “Please?” but it was almost inaudible. Troy could see Phillip’s whole-body tremble as if from a cold environment. The odd technique Troy used to build Phillip up would eventually cause him to spew cum in a thrilling climax. As he continued his erotic assault in the boy’s asshole, as well as the light massaging of his huge, twitching boner, Phillip’s dick muscles -- the muscles that produce an explosion of sperm -- would be overridden. He would make Phillip spew cum like a fountain in one continuous flow.

Troy was such an expert that he always knew exactly when a climax was about to happen. When Phillip began shaking and twitching and making a humming sound Troy, calmly stooped behind the boy, was very tempted to increase the stimulation and make the boy shoot many hard volleys of man juice - but he resisted and stayed collected and on target.

“Haaaaaaaa please haaaa haaaaa haaaaaaa please!” Phillip gurgled as Troy continued to make full, long strokes on the boy’s powerful, angry, dark-red dick. Troy’s fingers turned inside his asshole as if he were making butter. “Haaaaaaaaaaa please haaa haaaaaaaaaaa please haaaa haaaaaaa haaaaaaa …” - the boy sounded like a blubbering idiot.

Then it happened! Cum was unleashed, not in blasts, but as if the gate holding back the sperm had just surrendered and opened. Phillip’s cum began to flow like a river of hot milk continuously. Troy liked to think of it as hot lava, slowly oozing out nonstop. Phillip’s body was taken over by spasms and jerks beyond his control. When it was finally over, his body sank to the floor, laying on his side in a fetal position with his hands still stuck to his calves. He continued to twitch as his dick released the last drops of his precious boy's cum. It was awesome!

Even though Troy was pretending to be an asshole, he couldn’t help looking at the puddled mass of Phillip and respecting his beauty. He also appreciated the boy’s complete surrender. Oh, Troy would soon get back to the business of verbally and physically harassing the boy. For now, he marveled at the power of his control and the wonderful completeness of Phillip’s surrender.

“So, you see, Gentlemen, here we have a full-fledged faggot. He thought he was a muscular, brawny, straight stud, but now he’s just a pile of boy fuck. Any of you want to fuck him? His ass is all ready for you.”

Troy was, of course, speaking to the many, many pay-per-view members who would soon be watching the edited version of this video. Members of the FIT Website (which meant ‘Fags in Training’), paid to watch true, straight guys become fags and engage in all sorts of gay sex. He didn’t care if Phillip heard him, as likely the boy was in some other wonderland of his own.

“Phillip will be starring in a whole lot of fuck features soon, so renew your memberships.”

Troy then picked up and put away all his shaving supplies and cleaned up his Father’s office. He let Phillip rest where he had fallen, with a full bottle of special water beside him to refresh himself when he awoke. Then Troy went out for his usual two-hour lunch. At some point, Phillip got up and cleaned himself off. He was in a daze and unsure what had happened to him - was it just an erotic dream? He downed the full water bottle, ate something from the candy machine, then rested and waited. He had a lot of questions, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask any.

At about 2:00 in the afternoon, everyone came back to the office. Phillip assumed ’the position’ in front of Mr. DeMarco’s desk, and the Agent and Troy discussed further steps needed to bring their new model up to his most professional, most hireable appearance. After discussing the physical training needed in-depth, Mr. DeMarco turned to Troy. He asked him if there was anything else that he would suggest for Phillip. "Well, the tan's a problem," he said with a smirk, "And so is that constant boner."

Phillip could have slugged the faggot for drawing attention to Phillip's raging hard-on. He hadn't thought it possible, but he could nonetheless feel his blush deepening. His damn cock had started throbbing again as soon as he had taken his stance with his hands behind his head.

Mr. DeMarco looked over at Phillip and nodded his head in agreement. "The tan's not the problem. The problem is the tan-line. How do you tan, Phillip? Do you use a tanning bed or lay out in the sun?" Phillip replied that he only tanned under natural sunlight when at the beach.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought." He shook his head unhappily. "And unfortunately, there are no nude beaches anywhere near here," the Agent said.

It was then that Troy spoke up. "Phillip could use the roof, Sir, like Kerry and Taylor do now." The roof of the building had been fixed up into a lounge area with a table and chairs for employees or models to take a break. There were several chaise lounge chairs there also, just for tanning. It wasn’t a space exclusively for the modeling agency to use. It was also accessible to any employees in the entire 7-story building. Normally there were just a few who went up there for their lunchtime break, and most often, they were women who wanted to watch the hunky models laying out on the chaise lounges in their Speedos while eating their lunch.

Mr. DeMarco shook his head negatively. "I don't think so, Troy. Kerry and Taylor both have night-time jobs, so their days are free. Phillip's in school. I'm sure he's having enough trouble juggling his schoolwork with the increased workout schedule we just laid out for him. I don't want to jeopardize his education just to eradicate his tan-lines. It's certainly not optimal, but I guess we'll have to go with the tanning bed. He'll probably lose some jobs because of it, but it can't be helped."

"Sir," Phillip spoke up, "If you think it would be better for me to lie out in the sun here rather than using a tanning bed, I can make the time to do that. Really, Sir. That wouldn't be a problem."

"Are you sure, Phillip?" Mr. DeMarco pressed. "The best sun here is between noon and 3:00 p.m., and you'd have to be here at least two hours every sunny day. Are you sure that wouldn't create logistical problems for you at school?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip replied with conviction. "I'm sure." It was important for him to come across as super agreeable since Mr. DeMarco had made it clear that he needed to cooperate fully and not resist his modeling training.

Mr. DeMarco favored Phillip with a warm smile. "Then I guess we have our solution. We'll see you on every sunny day. Just check in with Troy when you arrive. He'll get you stripped down and greased up and take you to the roof." What he didn’t reveal was, of course, that the rooftop lounge area also had several hidden cameras to capture any sexy or obscene happenings.

The tan-line issue now dealt with, Mr. DeMarco turned to Troy and asked, "Anything else?"

"The boner, Sir," Troy reminded him.

The F.I.T. Model
Part 4 of 8

"Yes," Dean DeMarco agreed, "Phillip's erections." He turned his attention back to Phillip.

It was so mortifying to have both of them concentrating on his leaking hard-on. "I'm sorry, Sir." He started to apologize, but Mr. DeMarco cut him off.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Phillip. As I told you the other day, it's natural for young studs like yourself to spontaneously get erect when they get excited. If anything, you should be proud to have such a nice big piece of meat between your legs. Most guys would kill to be as hung as you are. It's just that during a photo shoot, it's not something we'd be interested in drawing attention to unless we were planning on advertising you on porn sites which, of course, we're not."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Phillip repeated. "I've been really horny the last few days, ever since I started increasing my workouts and drinking that energy water." Phillip still wasn’t connecting the dots. His constant horniness and drinking the energy-water Mr. DeMarco had given him and required him to drink daily equaled increased boners.

"And that's to be expected, Phillip. That's totally normal. I'm not criticizing you, Phillip. If anything, I'm the one at fault here. I should have anticipated the problem and told you to work out any excess sexual energy before you came here."

"I did, Sir," Phillip interjected. "I jerked-off right before I left the house. It was the third time today.” But Mr. DeMarco pressed for more details.

“Well, Sir, it can be uncomfortable showering at school since a number of … guys just hang around the showers watching you.”

All of this conversation and Phillip’s nakedness made for good viewing, and Dean DeMarco had hidden cameras to capture models from every important angle. Still, no one but he and Troy knew about them. The idea was to make spy videos of certain clients, such as Phillip, which they wanted to feature on their FIT Website to sell subscriptions. It wasn’t his main business, but this side adventure was certainly much more interesting and exciting. It’s what he and Troy lived for - they were partners in crime.

“Never mind those idiots.” Mr. DeMarco said, “I want you to always shower as soon as possible after you've completed your workout. Besides, we've already discussed the problem of your excessive physical modesty, which is just another manifestation of your insecurity. From now on, you are to not only shower at the gym, but I want other guys to always be present, so you can get used to it. Never shower there alone, is that understood?" Phillip nodded yes.

He was still feeling somewhat shaky when he heard Troy pipe up. "But we still have his boner to deal with right now, Sir."

"Yes, we do," Mr. DeMarco agreed, his attention returning to Phillip's crotch. "There's nothing we can do about it at this point but to drain his balls." He looked up at Phillip and shrugged his shoulders. "Phillip, why don't you go over to the couch, sit down and rub one out. Looking at the state of your erection," and at this point, Mr. DeMarco allowed his glance to return to Phillip's groin, "it shouldn't take long."

"Sir, you want me to jerk myself off right now?" Phillip asked in shock.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. We must get rid of that erection, particularly for the underwear and swimsuit photos, and we need to do it now. So just go into the side office - it’s made up like a den - and pop that load."

"I don't know, Sir," Phillip began uncertainly. "I don't know if I can. I mean, it would feel so weird whacking my meat off with other guys watching me. I'm not even sure I could shoot."

"See, that's exactly what I was just talking about. You've got to get over this excessive shyness. This will be good therapy for you."

It was obvious from Mr. DeMarco's tone that he didn't want to hear any more arguments. Phillip took a deep breath, unlocked his fingers, and lowered his arms. Slowly, he walked into the den area and sat on the sofa. He looked down at his hard cock and noticed the crown was almost covered with pre-cum. He smeared the pre-cum over his tool and then took a firm grasp of his aching cock and began to stroke it.

He must have been going at it a good two minutes before he happened to look up. "Holy Fuck!" he exclaimed, jumping up and trying desperately to cover himself with his hands.

"What's the matter, Phillip?" Mr. DeMarco asked.

"People are watching me, Sir!" Phillip complained, his voice rising. "People … passers-by on the sidewalk! They can see in your bay window! They can see me jerking-off!" With that, Phillip ran back to Mr. DeMarco’s desk and away from the window. Since Troy had re-arranged the sofa to be just 3 feet from the big plate glass window, anyone walking by would have to be blind not to see him.

"Phillip, get back in there and stay there," Mr. DeMarco sternly ordered.

"But, Sir… aren’t there any drapes or shades to pull down?" Phillip pleaded.

"Do as I say," Mr. DeMarco roughly commanded, clearly angry now.

Phillip slowly walked back to the den area and sat down on the sofa, but this time, he covered up his dick with his hands.

"Now return to the business at hand, Phillip. Jerk-off that cock. I don't want you getting up until you've shot your load. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip mumbled, not believing that his Agent was making him jerk-off while total strangers watched!

Phillip glanced out the window and saw all the people walking by. Most never looked in, but still, some did. He made up his mind to just concentrate on getting himself off.

He didn't know how long it took, but Phillip felt his balls rising in their sac sooner than he would have thought possible under the circumstances. All it took was a few more hard-strokes, and he was there. Even Phillip was surprised by the volume of sperm that erupted from his throbbing boner. Two spurts landed on his forehead and chin, and they were followed by at least four more large jets of milky-white semen, which splattered onto his chest and belly. The last couple dripped onto his smoothly shaved groin area. What a mess!

Once again, the hidden video cameras captured every moment of this erotic scene. Phillip was rapidly (and unknowingly) proving himself to be the best model Mr. DeMarco had ever featured on his porn ‘Fags in Training’ Website – the FIT Website – where viewers had to subscribe to view.

Phillip, breathing heavily from the force of his exertions, continued to stroke his cock as he tried to tease every drop of cum out of his system. While he tried to catch his breath, he was simultaneously careful to keep his eyes focused on his cock - he didn't want to look up and see a bunch of strangers looking at him after he'd just shot off a big load.

"Have you finished nutting yet, Phillip?"

"Yes, Mr. DeMarco," Phillip managed to croak out.

"Then get your ass over here so we can start taking photos," Mr. DeMarco rejoined with a hint of impatience.

"Yes, Sir," Phillip responded, immediately getting to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but after taking a few steps, he regained his balance. Only when he turned and faced Mr. DeMarco and Troy did he remember that his entire upper body was splattered with a viscous coating of spunk slowly running down his torso. Just a short glance at Troy's smirking face was enough to make his entire body flush with embarrassment.

"Troy, don't just stand there. Go take care of that cum mess on his body. You know what to do.” Troy obeyed his boss-dad and, placed his hands-on Phillip’s chest and spread the cum slop all over the model’s abs, nipples, shoulders, and belly until it was all nice and even. Phillip just stood there in shock, too stunned to voice his objection. “There, that will help your skin to produce a more even tan.”

“Ah … Sir? Can I wash this off now?”

“No, you leave that protective coating on. In fact, in the morning, when you get out of the shower, beat-off and spread your slop all over your body. It’s the best body lotion there is.”

Phillip attempted to speak up to explain how humiliated he had felt being on display in the window. Before completing his thoughts, Mr. DeMarco said, "Phillip, do you want to be a model? If so, being an exhibitionist comes with the territory. It's a good thing. In fact, for a model, it's essential. What we have to do now is to figure out how to bring your latent exhibitionism out of the closet and stick your excessive modesty in there in its place."

"Yes, Sir," Phillip agreed, his mind reeling, once again amazed at how smart Mr. DeMarco was. Phillip had never had the slightest inkling that he had exhibitionist tendencies until his agent said he did. Once again, he told himself he had to do whatever Mr. DeMarco told him. This man was obviously his ticket to fame and fortune, and all Phillip had to do was not screw it up.

They all then moved into the den-like area to begin the photo shoot. It was a lot harder work than Phillip would have thought because they couldn't be sure how long Phillip's erection problem would remain under control. They began with swimsuits and then moved on to underwear.

It only took ten minutes before Phillip had worked out the procedure. He'd put on a swimsuit. They’d take numerous poses in front of a white backdrop, then move over to the sofa and go through another series of poses. Then it was back up, stripped off the swimsuit he was wearing, put on a new one, and started the whole process all over again.

They started with a pair of board shorts and then progressively worked themselves down in size. The last three thongs he modeled provided virtually no coverage at all. The last one, in fact, left the top inch of his dick totally exposed. He couldn't imagine what type of guy would ever wear a thong like that on a beach – he’d have to be a raging faggot. Phillip now appreciated why Mr. DeMarco had insisted on shaving his entire body. His pubes would have been clearly visible in half the photos.

Another thing he quickly noticed was that both Troy and Mr. DeMarco had been right about his tan lines. As the swimsuits got progressively smaller, the area of his untanned groin became more prominent. It did make it obvious that the suits that Phillip was modeling were not swimsuits he ever wore in real life, so Phillip could see why that might make the advertisers unhappy. Actually, seeing the problem his present tan-lines created gave Phillip a greater resolve to spend every sunny day working on his all-over tan on the roof upstairs.

He was also impressed, though he was reluctant to admit it, with how Troy's attitude and demeanor had changed once he began shooting the photos. The leering looks, the air-kisses, they were all gone. It was obvious that Troy was a real professional when it came to photography. So, Phillip found himself assuming the poses that Troy wanted without second-guessing him - even the photos of him on the couch that seemed to Phillip to present himself more as a sex object than a model of men's swimsuits and underwear.

One pose, in particular, seemed designed to present Phillip in an especially lurid light. Phillip was posed, leaning back on the couch, his legs spread wide apart, with his left leg bent at the knee, the foot flat on the floor, and his right leg, bent at the knee, on the sofa. Once he had settled into the pose. Troy had Phillip rest his right hand on his upper thigh just below his crotch, bring his left hand across his chest, and lightly flick his right nipple. Phillip couldn’t help staring out the window to see who was looking in since the large bay window had no drapes or shades. Not surprisingly, it was only a matter of time until both his nips hardened up.

Even though his cock remained soft for most of the shoot, the tightness of the swimsuits and underwear he was modeling clearly showed the outline of his meaty cock. The pose he was assuming on the couch seemed designed to draw attention to his endowment. It seemed to Phillip that the photos being taken were more appropriate for the opening scene of a porn movie than for an advertisement selling swimsuits or underwear. Mr. DeMarco and Troy assured him he looked great. So, he assumed the pose whenever they asked for it.

Phillip's dick pretty much behaved until the last few underwear items. He had just begun modeling a scandalous lace micro-thong. Looking at it before he put it on reminded Phillip more of women's panties than a man's briefs. It was totally covered in frilly black lace, which, Phillip quickly realized, would do little to actually obscure his cock and balls. He was surprised at how it felt as he slid it over his crotch. It was as tight a fit as all the other swimsuits and underwear had been, but the feeling of the lace on his freshly denuded skin seemed to have an electrifying effect on him. Before he knew it, his eight inches was once again jutting proudly out from his groin.

Then there was a slight delay as Troy, and Mr. DeMarco discussed what they should do about Phillip's re-arousal. Mr. DeMarco ultimately decided that even though the remaining items of underwear provided little, if any, coverage of Phillip's genitals. It would still be fine. The companies selling these items would probably like them displayed on an obviously aroused model, particularly one as well-hung as Phillip was.

Despite himself, Phillip was a little discomforted by this turn of events. He had just started coming to Mr. DeMarco's viewpoint, accepting that it was OK to have his good looks and sexy physique exploited to market the items prospective advertisers were pushing. Still, the photographs of his erect cock - particularly when he was modeling items which were simply a piece of spandex hanging down from a waistband, were getting pretty damn close to out-and-out pornography. At least, that's what Phillip thought.

But it was obvious that neither Troy nor his Agent felt any similar concerns as they proceeded to complete the shoot from that point on without the slightest effort to obscure Phillip’s boner. After all, it was great video footage for the porno, “Fags in Training Website,” and it is many paying customers. And, having already been chastised several times that day by Mr. DeMarco for his excessive modesty. Phillip didn't feel confident enough to voice any of his misgivings. Instead, he just dutifully assumed the poses that Troy directed and let him shoot the pictures he wanted.

Just when he thought the shoot was over, another item called “Ballz Out,” was handed to him. This consisted only of a red strap around his waist with a small piece of sheer red fabric stretching down to encase his erect penis, exposing his balls. Phillip felt like a prostitute but silently did as he was told.

By the time the photo-shoot finally ended, Phillip was exhausted. Troy picked up all the items Phillip had posed in and headed out the door, telling his boss as he left that he'd get right on the photos as soon as he got the clothes put away. Phillip was just about to assume the proper position in front of Mr. DeMarco when Dean looked up and said, "You look totally wasted, Phillip. Why don't you just pull up a chair, and we'll go over the photo shoot, and then you can head on out."

"Thank you, Sir," Phillip replied gratefully. He pulled over a chair from the wall and settled into it, scarcely even aware that he was still completely naked. Phillip was slowly coming to the point where it seemed natural to be naked in front of his Agent. It took only a few minutes to print out the first half of the photos.

Mr. DeMarco reviewed the entire shoot in surprising detail. He gave Phillip many suggestions on posing techniques but generally praised the boy's performance. "I think you're a natural, Phillip. You have a certain raw masculinity that I think will really come through in the photographs, and I'm sure hiring agents will quickly pick up on that. Of course, we still have some significant work to do to fine-tune elements of your body and training so that you instinctively follow a photographer's directions without even the slightest hesitation. But, all in all, I must stay. I'm quite pleased with your work today."

"Thank you, Sir," Phillip replied, beaming. It was so good to hear that Mr. DeMarco was pleased with his efforts. It made Phillip want to try even harder to please the man.

"You have a right to be proud of yourself, Phillip, but I also want you to keep your focus and do not forget that being a physique model is hard work and requires a lot of dedication. For example, from now on, you should spend at least half-an-hour every morning just shaving your body. And I want you to take care in doing it. The last thing in the world you want to do is to nick or cut yourself."

"But, Sir," Phillip responded. "My body hair doesn't really grow that quickly. I think shaving once a week should be enough to keep my body hairless."

"No, I want you to shave your entire body daily, regardless of how quickly you think your hair grows back. Similarly, Phillip, I think we need to take steps to bring your excessive testosterone under control. From now on, whenever you get an erection. I want you to take care of it immediately. If you're home, go to your bedroom and whack it off. If you're in public, just find a restroom and take care of it there. We have to bring it under control, or it will limit your utility in some shoots. Do you understand?" Of course, all the special water he was drinking every day made him as horny as hell in the first place.

"Yes, Sir," Phillip murmured, embarrassed that they were once again discussing his boner problems.

"Fine, so take care of it right now while we finish our discussion and wait for Troy to bring in the rest of the proofs."

"Sir, you want me to jack-off right now while I'm sitting here talking to you?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Phillip? We need to keep your balls completely drained to keep you from plumping up at awkward moments. Take your cock in your hand and milk it now, okay?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip grudgingly agreed. He reached down and grabbed his hard fuck-stick. It throbbed underneath his touch. Despite his reservations, Phillip groaned in pleasure as he began to stroke his rigid tool.

"Aren't you the fucking stallion?" Phillip heard Troy's comment. He looked up to see that Troy was standing right next to him, his eyes taking in Phillip's cum-covered body, his lips twisted into a gleeful smirk. Phillip was about to say something when he heard Mr. DeMarco speak up.

"That will be enough, Troy," he said. He held out his hand. "Let me see the rest of the proofs."

"Yes, Sir," Troy immediately responded, yanking his gaze from Phillip and looking back at his dad-boss. Mr. DeMarco took them and began examining them closely.

Phillip was concentrating on masturbating himself when he heard Mr. DeMarco call his name. "Phillip," Dean DeMarco called out.

"Yes, Sir," he answered, looking up at the man.

"I assume you can jerk-off without having to look at your cock?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip admitted.

"Fine, then we'll continue our discussion while you continue to take care of business." Mr. DeMarco wanted Phillip to jerk-off as he looked at his own sexy nude photos. He wanted the boy to become ingrained in his own erotic vision.

"Yes, Sir," Phillip managed to squeak out. And so, for the next 10 minutes, Phillip sat there alongside Mr. DeMarco, trying to review photos of himself while he continued to pump his hard prick. It was so humiliating to be sitting there stroking himself off with his entire body clearly within Mr. DeMarco's range of vision while at the same time trying to keep a discussion going on about what exercises he should use to maximize the development of his quads.

Finally, Phillip began to breathe heavily as he neared his orgasm. He was just about to shoot off when he heard the door open behind him - Troy walked into the room just as Phillip began pumping out another massive load.

"What a horny little bitch!" he heard Troy exclaim as the first spurt landed right on Phillip's nose. In the throes of his orgasm, Phillip couldn't even try to make a retort. Instead, he just writhed uncontrollably in the chair as his hot sperm continued to shoot from his erupting cock.

If anything, his second orgasm in the office was greater than his first. All Mr. DeMarco could think about was what a great video session he got from this horned-up model. By the time Phillip's cock had finished disgorging his ball-seed. Phillip was almost covered with fresh cum.

Mr. DeMarco, without even looking up said, "Don't just stand there, Troy. Get our model cleaned up. Phillip, please stand in your proper form."

"Yes, Sir," they both responded. Troy turned to Phillip and flashed him an exaggerated leer before again spreading the cum all over Phillip’s body. Troy worked it in well and, as before, pinched Phillip’s nipples and fingered his asshole in the process.

“Sir … Mr. DeMarco, why can’t I just wash off my cum?” Phillip asked simply.

“You can when you shower. But during the day, I want you to become familiar with your own cum scent. I want you to wear it like cologne,” his agent insisted.

When Troy was finished coating Phillip’s skin as well as fondling his every-body part, Mr. DeMarco called Phillip’s attention back to the photos at hand. Together they poured over the proof sheets while occasionally Phillip glared at Troy on the other side of the desk, still angry that the fucking faggot had the temerity to finger Phillip as if he were some cheap faggot slut. But his anger immediately abated when he glanced back at the photos that Mr. DeMarco was praising. “Damn,” he thought, “I look great in these photos!” while saying it out loud for all to hear.

The F.I.T. Model
Part 5 of 8

As Dean DeMarco rapidly worked his way through sheet after sheet of proofs. Phillip had to admit that Troy had taken some outstanding pictures of him. His agent had been right about that little faggot being an excellent photographer, and he was right about something else, too. Shaving his body really did make Phillip's musculature pop out. He reached out and touched one of the photos on the sheet that Mr. DeMarco was reviewing. "I really look good in this photo," he proudly proclaimed.

They spent a few more minutes reviewing the proofs, and then Mr. DeMarco leaned back in his chair and said, "I think we've got more than enough to make a number of different comp cards specifically designed for underwear, swimsuit, and physique castings. We'll send the photos we've selected to the printer, and we should have them ready to go within a week."

Mr. DeMarco then looked up at Phillip, who was still standing beside him and smiled. "You did really well today, Phillip. Real great…I'm proud of you!" he added.

Even Phillip was surprised by the surge of pride that ran through him as he listened to his agent’s praises. It had been years since he'd heard anything other than sarcastic criticism from authority figures in his life - his father never had a decent word to say about him. Hearing Mr. DeMarco tell him that he was proud of him made Phillip all the more determined to please him. The boy would do everything he could to keep Mr. DeMarco's good opinion.

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, the slight quaver in his voice betraying Mr. DeMarco's comments' effect on him.

"You're welcome, Phillip," Dean said. Then he looked at his watch and declared, "It's getting late. Why don't you get dressed?"

Phillip walked over to his clothes, picked up his slacks, stepped into them, and pulled them up. He had been naked for so long that it felt a little strange to wear clothes again. He reached down, picked up his Polo shirt, and put that on, too. He was putting on his socks and stepping into his loafers when Mr. DeMarco spoke again.

"You know, Phillip, there's no need to dress up when you're just coming to the office. Like I told you, we're all family here. In the future, just a tank top, running shorts, and a pair of sandals or even flip-flops would be more than sufficient. In fact, considering how warm it's been lately, there's no need to even wear a tank-top. Just running shorts would be fine."

"I don't know, Sir," the boy responded. "I'd feel kind of funny coming here just wearing a pair of running shorts." but in the end, he agreed to be way more casual, as requested.

Hearing Phillip's assent made Dean smile. He was progressing well with his plan to re-orient Phillip's basic makeup. There was still a long way to go, but he no longer doubted that it was only a matter of time before he had the boy exactly where he wanted him to be – naked and in his bed. He could just imagine Phillip in his bed, with his legs spread wide apart, his ankles next to his ears, getting fucked hard repeatedly. Dean could feel his own dick hardening up as he contemplated that scenario in his mind. Aloud, he said, "So why don't you just take that shirt off now, Phillip, and we can start confronting your insecurities?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip sighed as he reached down, grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and peeled it off his torso. While doing so, he got a powerful smell of his own cum, which was still smeared all over his chest. He crumpled up the Polo and jammed it between his back and the waistband of his slacks. Bare-chested now, he turned to leave when he heard Mr. DeMarco tell Troy to get him another two-dozen bottles of the energy water. "We don't want Phillip running out," he told his secretary.

When Troy re-entered the office. He plopped down on the chair Phillip had been using in front of his Father's desk. "Well, that sure went well," he observed with a big smile on his face, once again dropping his effeminate facade. "I think we've got more than enough video material to begin introducing Phillip to our FIT Website subscribers."

Dean DeMarco brought his focus back to his son, Troy. "The session was great," he agreed, "but, like I’ve told you before, I want to go slow online. I want to tease them a little before they finally get to see him in action. I want our pay-per-view subscribers clamoring for more. I want every one of those fuckers begging us to put him on the block, and when we finally do, I want his ass to bring in more money than Taylor did that first time." Mr. DeMarco could charge a premium price for his online site because it was well-known that most of the models that appeared on it were put up for auctions only available to premium subscribers. Taylor had pulled in $6,500 the first time he'd been put up for bid, a price that had surprised even Dean DeMarco.

When Phillip arrived at Mr. DeMarco's office the next day, he was wearing only a pair of running shorts and flip-flops, just as Mr. DeMarco had directed. However, his shorts had no pockets, so he was also wearing a fanny pack to carry his money, ID, iPhone, and his now ever-present bottle of energy supplement. He'd always thought that other dudes looked pretty faggy wearing fanny packs, but he figured he didn't have any choice if he was going to do what Mr. DeMarco had suggested.

Phillip had to park a long distance from the office. So he sprinted from his car to the office door, not wanting to have people gawk at his faggoty look. Once inside, the relative safety of the building. Phillip paused to collect himself. He couldn't believe how hard he was breathing, and looking down at his body, he realized his entire torso was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. Phillip stood there, trying to calm down, to put himself at ease. He didn't want Mr. DeMarco to see him so obviously disheveled.

Phillip's respiration had just about returned to normal when he realized, with a start, that his nipples were fully erect. Then, glancing down his torso, Phillip was mortified to see that his running shorts were clearly jutting out. He was totally and obviously boned up! In fact, even as he looked down at himself, he saw a dark, wet cum spot expanding on the front of his shorts. Had he been aroused when he was getting out of his car? Had all the people he had passed noticed his erection and been laughing at him, thinking he was a queer? Had he made a public spectacle of himself, running around almost naked while sporting an obvious boner leaking cum onto his nylon shorts? Phillip felt himself blushing in embarrassment all over again.

At that precise moment, he heard a cough which made him look up. Behind the lobby desk sat a guard eyeing him with a condescending sneer. "Can I help you … Sir?" he asked, putting an inflection on 'Sir' that made it obvious that he thought it was an honorific totally unsuited to the person he was addressing.

Phillip had dealt with this guard before when he'd entered the building. While his manner had always been a certain coolness, the guard had never before addressed him with such obvious contempt. But, then again, Phillip had never before entered the building dressed only in running shorts and flip-flops … and flashing an obvious erection to boot.

"I have an appointment with Mr. DeMarco’s Modeling Agency," Phillip squeaked, unable to keep a noticeable quiver out of his voice.

"Yes," the guard responded, not even trying to mask the sarcasm in his tone, "I'm sure you do." With a smile that was more of a smirk, the guard continued. "Would you sign in, please?"

Phillip walked over to the guard station and signed his name in the log book, painfully aware that his hand was shaking as he did so. The guard flipped the sign-in book around and stared at Phillip's entry. Then he looked up at Phillip.

"The Modeling offices are on the top floor," he informed the boy, "But I'm sure you already know that," he added, now openly grinning at him.

"Yes, Sir," Phillip quietly replied, feeling incredibly awkward. "I do." Phillip then walked over to the bank of elevators and pressed the "UP" button. Just as the bell sounded to announce the elevator's arrival, the guard behind him said, "And boy, don't forget to sign out when you leave, no matter how late it is. Understand, boy?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip quickly agreed, actually stammering as he did so. Phillip saw the guard wink at him as the elevator doors closed. Phillip felt himself blushing yet again for reasons he couldn't fully understand. As he rode the elevator to the top floor, Phillip tried to figure out what was wrong with him - the guard had treated him like a punk, like some fucking faggot, and he'd just let him do it! He'd even called him 'boy' to his face, and Phillip didn’t say a thing. The only difference between yesterday and today was how Phillip was dressed. Yesterday, he'd been in slacks and a Polo shirt. Today he was bare-chested and only wearing his running shorts - that was the sole difference. But it was a big enough difference for the guard to think he could get away with treating Phillip like street scum. What was worse for Phillip, he realized, was that he had accepted being treated that way.

And there in the elevator, on his way to the top floor, Phillip had an epiphany - Mr. DeMarco was right. He was too sensitive about what other people thought of him. Nothing had changed about Phillip in the last twenty-four hours - he was still the same straight stud he'd always been. But because he appeared in public wearing only a pair of skimpy running shorts, strangers made assumptions about his type of person. They were wrong, and Phillip knew they were wrong, but he had let them get away with it because he wasn't secure enough to stand up for himself.

Well, fuck them, Phillip thought, feeling a surge of anger. “I'm not going to let a bunch of assholes whom I don't even know and who don't know me keep me from achieving success. They're probably just a bunch of fucking losers anyway. Let 'em look. Let 'em leer. Fuck, I don't give a damn if they want to sneer at me, but I won't let them stop me from achieving my dream. I'm going to be the next big male model, and I won't let anyone or anything sidetrack me.”

Just then, the bell dinged, and the elevator doors opened. With a newfound sense of self-confidence, Phillip squared his shoulders and stepped into the hallway, right in front of Dean DeMarco’s glass doors. He pushed one of the doors open and strode across the room to the reception desk where Troy was sitting, just staring at him, making no effort to hide the lust Phillip's masculine body was clearly stoking in him. “Let the little faggot get his jollies,” Phillip thought. “I don't care what he thinks about me. I won't let him or anybody else keep me from making it big. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it. Fuck him. Fuck them all!”

"Hello, Troy," Phillip said as he stood directly in front of the receptionist, purposely thrusting his pelvis forward so that his running shorts, with their big bulge, were almost in Troy's face. "I'm here to work on my tan."

The look on Troy's face was almost laughable. He was almost drooling and so turned on, but he was obviously flustered. He was used to dealing with a nervous and self-conscious Phillip. He seemed unprepared for the self-confidence that Phillip was now projecting.

But despite the surprise Troy may have felt at first. He quickly reverted to his old form. "Well, Hello, sexy!" he cooed, licking his lips. "Aren't you a sight to get a boy's juices flowing, or a girl's too, for that matter," he added as an obvious afterthought. Though Phillip had resolved to ignore the little fairy, he could feel himself begin to redden. He didn't know why it was, but the male receptionist always seemed able to throw Phillip off his game. Well, that was just something he'd have to work on, Phillip thought to himself.

When he saw Phillip blush, Troy couldn't keep his smile from broadening. He stood up behind his desk and announced, “Let's get you started right away on that all-over tan. It's a beautiful sunny day, and I'm sure you don't want to waste a minute of it. Just follow me, Sweetie," he added as he turned and started walking towards the door to Mr. DeMarco's office.

“I'm not your fucking Sweetie,” Phillip raged inside his mind, getting angry despite himself. But because he had already begun exercising self-control, Phillip said, "You lead the way, Troy." Hearing himself make this response to Troy's obviously provocative remarks made Phillip feel good. He felt as if he were finally making good on the resolution he'd formed in the elevator. Nobody - not Troy, not those assholes on the street - would keep him from becoming a success.

Troy knocked on the door and entered, with Phillip following closely behind. Mr. DeMarco was sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone. He motioned them in and indicated that they should proceed to the bathroom. Once there, it took less than five seconds for Phillip to divest himself of his fanny-pack and his shorts, his only item of clothing. Phillip tried to ignore the fact that he was now sporting major wood, despite having jerked-off right before he left home but, of course, Troy made a big thing about it. "Aren't you the randy stud," Troy smirked. "I don't know, Sexy. Every time I see you, you're throwing a big bone. Must be me that turns you on. Is that it, big boy?"

"Why don't we just take care of business, Troy?" Phillip suggested.

"Whatever you say, Sexy, I'm always ready to take care of business." Then the little faggot actually wiggled his ass at Phillip. Phillip knew his blush was deepening, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Something about Troy just seemed to get to him every time.

Seeing Phillip's obvious discomfort, Troy smirked and let a little chuckle escape his lips. Then he turned his attention to the counter on which various lotions and sprays were arrayed. Troy picked up a tube of suntan lotion, and Phillip noticed it had an SPF of 60. Troy spread a large dollop of lotion on his hands and rubbed them together. Looking up at Phillip, he ordered him to "assume the position."

Phillip spread his legs far apart as directed and locked his fingers behind his neck. Troy immediately touched Phillip's shoulders and began applying the lotion liberally. Not surprisingly, the lotion wasn't the only thing Troy was liberal with. His hands seemed to float all over Phillip's body, and, when he was applying the lotion to Phillip's chest, Troy didn't miss an opportunity to squeeze and tweak Phillip's nipples. Needless to say, Phillip's nipples were once again fully erect by the time Troy moved on to his abs.

Phillip was trying to ignore the fact that his cock had started to leak pre-cum almost from the moment Troy had started lubing him up. He tried to prepare himself for Troy's imminent assault on his cock and balls, knowing that the horny fag-boy would take full advantage of this opportunity to fondle and molest him. So, he was surprised when, after applying a thick layer of lotion to the area just below his navel, Troy suddenly squatted down and began working on the lower half of Phillip's thighs.

Troy slowly worked his way down both legs, paying particular attention to Phillip's ankles and feet. He even worked some lotion in between each of Phillip's toes. Then he stood back up.

"Uh, haven't you forgotten something, Troy?" Phillip asked. Phillip had assumed the whole purpose of having Troy apply the lotion to Phillip's body was to ensure that Phillip didn't get sunburned, but Troy had left all the previously untanned areas of Phillip's body alone. Since these were the areas most susceptible to burning, it didn't seem to make any sense to Phillip.

"Don't you worry, stud boy," Troy reassured him with a wink. "I haven't forgotten anything."

Troy put away the tube of suntan lotion he'd been applying and picked up a different tube. Phillip saw that this one had an SPF of 10. Troy squeezed a good amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together. Then, stepping forward, he lowered his hands and took hold of Phillip's ball sack. Smiling up at the taller athlete, he began working the lotion into Phillip's cock and balls.

Phillip couldn't believe the jolt that ran through his body when Troy's fingers first closed around his nuts. No guy had never grabbed him by the balls before, at least not in such an intimate and personal way. And when Troy's hands reached up and began massaging Phillip's cock. Phillip couldn't keep a groan of pleasure from escaping his mouth. Despite himself, Phillip could feel his legs shaking, and after a few moments, he realized, to his horror, that he was on the verge of cumming. Phillip could feel his face burning with embarrassment as he contemplated cumming while Troy worked on his aroused cock.

But then, miraculously, just as Phillip was sure he would lose it and pop a load off right there, Troy released his hold on Phillip's manhood and began working some lotion into Phillip's lower belly and groin. His hands were still too intimate for Phillip's tastes, but at least the powerful urge to ejaculate had eased somewhat.

Trying to keep his mind off Troy’s rubbing, Phillip asked Troy why he was using a lower SPF lotion for the areas of his body that had never tanned before. "I would have thought you'd use a higher SPF on those areas to keep me from burning there."

"You're only going to be in the sun today for a maximum of three hours, Phillip," Troy explained as he moved on to working the lotion into the surprisingly sensitive area between Phillip's legs and his inner thighs. "So that works out to an hour and a half for each side. With an SPF of 10, that means that, in effect, the number of tanning rays you're getting is what you would get if you were lying in the sun unprotected for about six minutes on each side. You'll get some color, but you won't burn."

"I used a higher SPF on the tanned parts of your body because I want to slow down your tanning in those areas relative to your untanned areas. What we want to ultimately achieve is an even, all-over tan. We want the white areas of your groin and ass to get more sun than the already darker areas." As distracted as he was by Troy's insistent massaging of the sensitive areas of his body, Phillip just couldn't shake the sensation that Troy was feeling him up, just as Phillip would do to a horny bitch. Phillip had to admit the logic in Troy's tanning approach.

Troy concentrated on applying suntan lotion to Phillip's lower torso and upper thighs for the next few minutes. But again, when Phillip was afraid that he was about to climax, Troy stopped and moved around to Phillip's backside. Phillip heaved an audible sigh of relief.

Troy took his time on Phillip's ass, rubbing a lot of lotion onto Phillip's muscled butt and, not surprisingly, taking the opportunity to squeeze and massage his big globes. Then the boy told Phillip to reach back and spread his cheeks apart so that Troy could get his ass-crack greased up.

Phillip couldn't help shivering as the boy's feathery fingers worked their way up and down his ass crack. Then, when Troy suddenly inserted a greasy finger into his butt-hole, an involuntary groan once again escaped Phillip's lips. “Damn it,” he thought, trying to keep himself under control, “That little faggot just can't pass up a chance to finger my asshole.” But he managed to keep his anger reigned in until Troy roughly jammed a second finger up his butt, causing searing pain in Phillip's virginal anus – and that's when Phillip lost it.

"God damn it, Troy!" he shouted, taking two steps forward and pulling his butt off of the receptionist's two fingers. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm just greasing up your hole so you don't get sunburned back there," came Troy's innocent response, delivered in his most grating, effeminate voice.

"Well, just leave my asshole alone," Phillip responded, trying to control his rage.

Phillip had turned around and was staring daggers at the little pansy when he heard Mr. DeMarco's angry voice. "What the hell is going on in there?"

Phillip knew he was in the right, but he hadn't wanted to involve Mr. DeMarco in this little spat with Troy. "It's nothing, Sir," he called out. "Just a little misunderstanding between Troy and me."

Dean DeMarco was obviously not mollified. "Both of you get in here," he ordered. Phillip exited the bathroom, closely followed by Troy. Mr. DeMarco had finished his phone conversation and was just staring at them. He motioned for the two of them to move over to the front of his desk.

Once they were standing directly before him, Mr. DeMarco nodded at Phillip. "Okay, Phillip, you tell me what's going on."

"Well, Sir," Phillip began, "Troy was applying the suntan lotion to my ass when he suddenly stuck two fingers up my butt-hole."

"Troy," Mr. DeMarco queried, turning to his receptionist, "Is that true?"

"Yes, Sir, that's correct. I did stick two fingers up Phillip's pussy … I mean his asshole, Sir," he quickly corrected himself upon seeing Mr. DeMarco's angry glare. Phillip could feel his face flaring with heat at Troy's characterization of Phillip's butt-hole as a ‘pussy.’ It was bad enough that Phillip was now being mocked in the streets by total strangers. He'd be damned if he was going to let some fucking butt-muncher impugn his masculinity right in front of his agent. But before he could say anything, Mr. DeMarco stood up and began to move from behind his desk, his face firmly set with disapproval.

"Troy," he remonstrated angrily, "I've warned you before about using that word to refer to our model's assholes. It is disrespectful even in those cases in which it is obvious that the model has been the receptive partner during anal sex, to say nothing of situations in which the individual has no interest in such activities, as I assume is the case right now, isn't that correct, Phillip?"

"Yes, Sir," Phillip replied with force, somewhat unsettled that he was being called upon to publicly affirm his masculinity. Then, suddenly uncertain about what he had agreed to, he changed his answer to "No, Sir." When that elicited a confused look from Mr. DeMarco, Phillip tried to clarify his declaration, "I mean, I've never been fucked up the ass, Sir."

"Exactly what I thought," Mr. DeMarco said in agreement and turned back to Troy. "Phillip hasn't lost his anal virginity yet, so it's improper for you to imply otherwise, particularly by using such a derogatory term."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Troy apologized.

"I'm sorry, too, Troy, but your apology isn’t enough," Mr. DeMarco immediately replied. "You've been warned about this before, but that apparently wasn't enough to make you change your ways. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished this time."

"Yes, Sir," Troy quietly replied, letting his head fall slightly.

"Well, you know the procedures, Troy. Strip down completely."

"Yes, Sir," Troy replied in a small voice. The next thing Phillip knew, Troy squatted down, untying his shoelaces. Phillip had followed the exchange between Troy and Mr. DeMarco with a mixture of satisfaction and consternation. He was gratified that Mr. DeMarco was taking action to curb Troy. But he was also more than a little disconcerted that Mr. DeMarco had actually said that Phillip had not lost his anal virginity “yet,” as if there were even the remotest possibility that such a thing would ever happen. But these conflicting emotions were totally overwhelmed by the shock of hearing Mr. DeMarco declare that Troy needed to be punished, followed by his order to strip Troy.

Troy removed all of his clothes without a murmur of objection. He was soon standing before Mr. DeMarco as naked as Phillip, and Phillip had to admit to himself that he was impressed. Who would have thought that such a little faggot as Troy would have such a well-developed physique - and a good-sized cock, too? And then, with a start, Phillip realized that Troy's body was as denuded of body hair as his own. If anything, that made Phillip more self-conscious that he no longer had any pubes either.

But even before Phillip could fully process this new perception of Troy, events rapidly moved on. Mr. DeMarco looked at Phillip and told him to get one of the straight-back chairs from along the wall and to move it in front of the desk. When he did so, Mr. DeMarco told Phillip to sit down. Uncertain about what was going on, Phillip did as he was told. Then Mr. DeMarco turned back to his receptionist.

"Since Phillip is the one you offended, Troy, Phillip will be the one dishing out the punishment. Assume the proper position over his lap."

The F.I.T. Model
Part 6 of 8

"Yes, Sir," Troy meekly replied, his eyes closed. The next thing Phillip knew. Troy was draped over his naked thighs.

Phillip looked up at Mr. DeMarco in total confusion. "Sir?" he queried, at a complete loss as to what was going on.

Mr. DeMarco smiled. "Let me explain everything. Here at the agency, when we have to discipline someone, I prefer to do so physically by way of a hard spanking. That way, punishment can be administered immediately. Because it is both painful and demeaning, it impresses on the offending party the seriousness of the infraction. On the other hand, it’s also over relatively quickly, and the disciplined individual can get back to work right away, even if his ass is sore.”

"Don't worry, Phillip…if a model is being disciplined, we're always careful to make sure that he has no appointments within the next twenty-four hours so that his ass can fully recover beforehand. If necessary, we'll even postpone his spanking if it might adversely affect a scheduled shoot or personal appearance. But yes, to answer your question before you even ask it. All models here are subject to being physically disciplined if their infraction warrants it."

Mr. DeMarco then paused for a moment to let Phillip absorb this new information, then continued. "Because Troy insulted you by referring to your asshole as a 'pussy,' I think it only fair that you administer his punishment. I know you're right-handed, so what I want you to do is to take your left hand, reach under Troy's body and grab a firm hold of his cock and balls."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Phillip. It's only a cock and a pair of balls. Like you have between your legs, I'm sure you've grabbed your own many times in the past few days alone. Troy's are no different. So just reach down and get a good grip on them. This will keep Troy from thrashing around too much and will also prevent him from falling off your lap.”

Phillip didn’t want to grab hold of Troy's scrotum, but it was obvious that Mr. DeMarco was determined for him to reach under the little faggot's body and grab hold of his cock and balls anyway. He was disgusted, but not surprised, to find that Troy's cock was not only fully aroused but also leaking pre-cum. “That's just fucking great,” Phillip thought to himself. “This little prick will probably get off while I'm spanking his ass. Some punishment!” But seeing how agitated his agent already appeared, Phillip knew enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

Once Phillip had a firm grip on the receptionist. Mr. DeMarco informed him that he would administer 100 swats to Troy's ass, fifty to each ass-cheek. "Don't worry about keeping track. Troy will count out each stroke. You just make sure that each one is hard. I don't want you going easy on Troy out of any misplaced feelings of sympathy."

"Yes, Sir," Phillip duly replied with confidence. Going easy on Troy's ass was the last thing on Phillip's mind.

"Well," Mr. DeMarco said, "Once you're sure you have a good grip on Troy's junk, you can begin."

As he tightened his grip to make sure that Troy didn't slide off his lap, even though he was not into any kind of faggot touching. Phillip focused on giving the rude and insulting receptionist an ass-thrashing he'd remember for a long time. This was his chance to put the little faggot in his place and to show him how a real man could dish out punishment. This little fruitcake had had his fun, and now it was time to pay the piper.

With a grim determination, Phillip raised his hand. Then he brought it back down on Troy's right cheek as forcefully as possible. The sound of flesh slapping flesh crackled across the room. Phillip was actually a little surprised at how hard he had smacked the boy's ass, but Troy hardly flinched. Instead, in a firm voice, Troy simply said, "One. Thank you, Phillip." Even though Mr. DeMarco had said that Troy would count out the strokes. Phillip was still surprised when he did. Phillip found that he liked hearing it, particularly the part where Troy thanked him for the smack. That was just what a little fag-boy should be doing. Thanking a real man for spanking him. “Two. Thank you, Phillip," Troy intoned.

And so it went, but Phillip's expression of grim determination was soon replaced by one of obvious pleasure. He was enjoying spanking Troy's ass … a lot. He had to admit that it was a real turn-on, a chance to pay the little faggot back for all the embarrassing innuendo he'd tossed at Phillip over the past week. It was just what the little bitch deserved.

As the count mounted and Troy's buns turned from a pinkish tinge to a deep crimson, Phillip became increasingly frustrated by his inability to elicit any sign of discomfort from Troy. Instead, the boy continued counting the strokes, seemingly impervious to the beating Phillip was administering. That wasn't what Phillip wanted - he wanted Troy to moan in pain, not in erotic bliss. He wanted him to cry like a little bitch having her ass walloped. So, midway through Troy's punishment, Phillip found himself increasing the force with which he smacked Troy’s butt, and he was so determined to make Troy cry that he ignored the increasing pain in his own hand.

Just as the count hit sixty, Phillip landed a vicious slap. He was rewarded when an involuntary groan escaped from Troy's lips. Three strokes later, Troy groaned again. Soon, Troy couldn't help himself. He started to tremble in pain with every stroke, and his buttocks began to take on a purplish glow. Phillip could see the tears in his eyes, but he wanted them coursing down his face. He wanted Troy to cry his eyes out like a little faggot should when a real man was beating his ass. Even though Phillip was now pummeling Troy's ass with all the force he could muster, Troy still refused to full-on cry.

And that's when the idea hit him. Phillip had no clue why he suddenly thought of it, but he wondered if Troy was close to cumming. Phillip loosened his grip on the boy's scrotum and let his hand slide down Troy's hard dick. The shaft was slick with pre-cum, and when Phillip fingered the crown. Troy's entire body shook. Phillip had been right - the little faggot was close to cumming.

Suddenly, Phillip was consumed with the desire to make the boy cum while he was spanking him - that would be so humiliating that even a fag-boy like Troy would probably be embarrassed for doing it. So, Phillip started doing something he had never done before in his life. Something he had never even considered doing before jack-off another dude.

Phillip began stroking the boy's hard cock at a steady pace while he continued to thrash his ass. And it was soon obvious that Phillip's ministrations were having the desired effect. He could feel Troy's dick throbbing in his hand, and his slit was now leaking pre-cum in a single, continuous flow. Suddenly, Troy turned his head towards Phillip and softly begged, "Please … don't. Please." That was all the incentive Phillip needed…he then really went to work on Troy’s dick.

As he relentlessly drove Troy toward an orgasm, Phillip simultaneously achieved his original goal. Troy began to cry out of humiliating frustration. But, at that point, nothing could deter Phillip from forcing the faggot to pop-off a load. He stroked and massaged Troy's now super-sensitized cock with a vengeance and, just as Troy counted, "Ninety-four," in a voice thick with tears. His dick erupted with cum. Troy began to sob uncontrollably as he writhed atop Phillip's lap in the throes of the orgasm Phillip had forced out of him. His cock spewed spurt after spurt of hot cream all over the carpet underneath him. At last, Phillip had reaped his much sought-after dominance.

The final six strokes were pretty much an after-thought, though Troy obviously had to struggle to count them out and to thank Phillip for each one. When the full one hundred had been administered, Troy lay quietly over Phillip's lap for a long moment, obviously trying to regain some composure. Then, with what had to be painful movements, Troy struggled back to his feet and turned to face Phillip. Although no longer sobbing aloud, Troy's face was still wet with tears. With a determined effort, Troy forced himself to look at Phillip and say, "I'm sorry for offending you, Phillip.” Then, after glancing quickly at Mr. DeMarco, he added, "And thank you for spanking me."

Phillip looked at Troy’s reddened ass and was shocked at how discolored and bruised it looked. Phillip was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable about what had happened – he had really done a number on Troy's ass. Phillip could even feel the heat radiating from Troy’s ass since he was sitting so close to it. From the way he moved. It was obvious that Troy was in considerable pain. Just sitting down was going to be uncomfortable for the next few days, and that didn't even take into consideration the obvious humiliation Troy had suffered when Phillip had forced him to cum during the spanking. Those effects figured to be even more long-lasting than the physical damage inflicted on the boy's buttocks.

Phillip tried to convince himself that Troy deserved what had happened to him since he'd been coming on to Phillip almost from the moment Phillip arrived at the Agency. Troy deserved to be punished, but even Phillip wondered if the punishment inflicted was perhaps greater than was warranted. After all, Troy was just being Troy. A faggot like that probably couldn't help himself when he was around a sexy, real man like Phillip. Troy was a faggot. Phillip told himself, and faggots needed to be put in their place, and he had certainly done that with Troy. He would definitely think twice before messing with Phillip again.

They stood there, warily eyeing each other, when Mr. DeMarco spoke up. "You certainly made a mess of my carpet, Troy." Looking up, Phillip noticed that Mr. DeMarco's gaze was fixed on the carpet area directly in front of where Phillip was still sitting. Strands and globules of creamy boy seed covered a wide area.

Troy looked at Mr. DeMarco and apologized. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Well, you made the mess. You clean it up."

"Yes, Sir," he said in a small voice. Then, to Phillip's surprise, the boy dropped to his knees. It looked to Phillip as if he were about to get on all fours when Mr. DeMarco interrupted. "Well, don't just look at it. Get a washcloth, Troy, and clean it up."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, quickly getting to his feet and heading to the bathroom. He was back moments later with a damp washcloth which he used to remove the evidence of his orgasm. In just a couple minutes, the carpet was clean again.

While Troy was doing that, Mr. DeMarco told Phillip to stand up and return the chair he'd been sitting in, to its usual place along the wall. As he did so, Mr. DeMarco walked around his desk again and sat down. Phillip came back and stood in front of the desk, soon joined by an obviously chastened and still-nude Troy.

Mr. DeMarco looked at the two of them for a few seconds. Then he returned to the discussion of what had happened in the bathroom between Phillip and Troy as if nothing else had just occurred. "So, Troy, you admit that you stuck two fingers up Phillip's asshole."

"Yes, Sir, I did. I was applying suntan lotion to Phillip's … ah … rectal lining," he argued by way of justification. "I wanted to be sure that no unprotected areas were exposed while Phillip was working on tanning his ass-crack."

Phillip was expecting Mr. DeMarco to reject this obvious fabrication out of hand. So he was surprised to hear his agent respond, "Well, that makes sense."

"But, Sir," Phillip complained, "his fingers were way up my asshole. There's no way I was going to get sunburned up there."

Mr. DeMarco looked back and forth between Phillip and his receptionist. "Go get the suntan lotion," he ordered Troy.

“Phillip, I need to see exactly what happened. So turn around and assume your position while Troy applies the lotion."

Phillip could feel himself getting red as he turned around, bent over, and then reached behind himself and spread his ass-cheeks wide apart. It was a pretty humiliating position to be assumed in front of any man, particularly Mr. DeMarco. Meanwhile, Troy had returned with the suntan lotion and positioned himself right next to Phillip's spread-open ass.

"Okay, Troy," Mr. DeMarco directed. "Coat your fingers with the lotion and show me how you applied it."

Phillip jerked with pain as the first one, and then a second finger was inserted up into his ass. Mr. DeMarco watched for two minutes as Troy worked his fingers in, twisting them inside Phillip's hole. It was so demeaning to be standing there while his agent watched Troy basically finger-fuck Phillip's butt. Finally, Mr. DeMarco asked Phillip if what Troy was now doing was what he had done in the bathroom.

"Yes, Sir," Phillip quickly affirmed. Shocked that Mr. DeMarco had let Troy continue to finger him for so long. But then he was thunderstruck when Mr. DeMarco declared, "Well, I don't see what your problem is, Phillip."

"But, Sir," Phillip complained, "Troy's got two fingers way up my butt!"

"Yes, he does, but he needs to ensure that your rectum's exposed area doesn’t get sunburned. That would be incredibly painful for you. Far more painful than having a pair of fingers massaging your black hole."

"But how would that area ever get sunburned?" Phillip asked plaintively. "There's no way that the inside of my asshole will ever be exposed to the sun!”

"That's where you're wrong, Phillip. You'll spend a good amount of time on the roof lying on your stomach. Working on tanning your ass. As we've already discussed, your ass-crack must be as tanned as the rest of your body. With your big, muscular bubble butt, the only way your ass-crack is going to be exposed to the sun is if you hold your cheeks far apart. Just like you're doing now. But when you do that, you stretch out your anal rosette. Which I can see clearly from where I'm sitting. That will allow sunlight to stream in on the upper part of your anal passage. So, if that area isn't coated with suntan lotion, you could get a nasty burn back there. Troy was just being careful. He wasn't doing anything wrong - you were the one at fault."

Phillip could feel his face burning red as he heard those words. AND STILL, TROY HAD HIS FINGERS UP HIS ASSHOLE! He was the one who had been wronged. Troy’s actions had precipitated the entire scene in Mr. DeMarco's office, and Mr. DeMarco had now somehow concluded that Troy hadn't been doing anything improper when he'd stuck two of his fingers up his virginal butt-hole? Part of Phillip couldn't believe what he was hearing, but another part wondered whether he had overreacted. Had he been too quick to assume that Troy was taking advantage of him? But it sure didn't feel right the way Troy's fingers were stuck so far up his butt. Mr. DeMarco could clearly see how those fingers penetrated his hole. Yet he was somehow convinced that it was Phillip who was at fault? How could that be?

A minute later, he heard Mr. DeMarco tell Troy to remove his fingers from Phillip's hole, and the receptionist immediately did as he was told. Slowly, Phillip straightened up and then turned around to face Mr. DeMarco. Seeing the obvious disapproval on his agent’s face made him feel even worse. "I'm sorry, Sir," Phillip quickly offered.

"Troy is the one you should apologize to," Mr. DeMarco immediately pointed out.

Phillip turned to the still-nude receptionist standing just a few feet from him. His flaming ass still exuded heat from the terrific battering Phillip had administered to it. "I'm sorry, Troy, for overreacting," Phillip said, feeling very much ill-at-ease.

Troy looked up at him with a mixture of anger and triumph in his eyes and just stared at Phillip. He obviously had no intention of acknowledging Phillip's apology until Mr. DeMarco expressly told him to respond.

It was clear that Troy had to force the words out, "That's okay, Phillip. I accept your apology." then, turning to look Phillip straight in the face, he added, "But you should have asked me why I was doing it, and I would have explained it to you. You should have asked."

"Yes, Phillip," Mr. DeMarco immediately agreed. "You should have asked Troy. But instead, you assumed the worst and responded accordingly. If you had asked Troy. We all might have avoided the unpleasantness that just occurred."

Phillip looked at Mr. DeMarco and then back at Troy. He had clearly screwed up and, despite all his best efforts, had disappointed Mr. DeMarco and possibly jeopardized his modeling career. He knew he had to somehow try to rectify the situation, so, tamping down an upsurge of fear, he spoke up. "I'm sorry, Sir, for my actions." Then, taking a deep breath, he continued, "And if you think I need to be disciplined, Sir, I'm willing to accept my punishment."

Mr. DeMarco knew that Troy wasn't faking his embarrassment. The boy had really been humiliated when Phillip forced him to cum, and that wasn't something his son would let pass without exacting painful revenge. But Mr. DeMarco had a different humiliation in mind for Phillip, which would advance his training along pre-planned lines.

"I'm glad to hear you accept responsibility for your actions, Phillip, and I'm willing to let your mistake pass this time. Of course, should it happen again, I won't be so forgiving. I trust you can understand that."

"Yes, Sir. I do," Phillip immediately replied.

"Good," Mr. DeMarco responded. Then, looking at his watch, he said, "We've lost a lot of good sunshine already. So Troy should take you upstairs to get started. But, before he does, we must do something about your erection, Phillip."

With the conversation turning yet again to his erection problems. Phillip could feel his blush deepening. "I'm sorry, Sir," he temporized, "I'm jacking myself off all the time, but that doesn't seem to help. I'm hard pretty much 24/7 now, even an hour after I've already worked out a load."

Mr. DeMarco eyed his model closely. Knowing the special water he was supplying him was causing his uncontrollable erections. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he responded, "Well, if that continues, we may have to take a totally different approach to control your excess testosterone. But right now, we need to take care of your boner, and we need to do it quickly."

Mr. DeMarco turned to his receptionist and said, "Troy, take Phillip's cock in your hand and jerk him off," he directed.

"But, Sir," Phillip sputtered in open-mouthed shock, "I can jack myself off!"

“Yes, Phillip, I'm sure you can since you’ve just told me you're doing it all the time. But we're pressed for time here, and you're the main reason. Troy will be able to get you off faster than you can yourself. So just assume the position and let Troy do his job."

Phillip reluctantly spread his legs far apart and locked his fingers behind his neck. Troy, making no effort to hide his enjoyment at the unexpected turn of events, quickly stepped forward and roughly grabbed Phillip's fully erect cock. Eliciting a loud groan from the model. In just seconds, Troy was working on Phillip's dick with a vengeance.

Troy seemed to know instinctively how to manipulate Phillip's dick to maximize the model's pleasure. Of course, almost all the girls he'd fucked in the past had manipulated his dick during his sexual forays with them, but none of those bitches could hold a candle to Troy’s obvious expertise. Despite Phillip's intense embarrassment as he was publicly masturbated by another man, he began to violently undulate his hips in a frantic rhythm to match Troy’s pumping. Slowly, Troy's grip grew tighter, and his jacking motion increased until Phillip could stand it no longer with a scream of release that surprised even Phillip. His dick erupted with hot, viscous semen.

The moment Phillip began shooting. Troy bent the model's cock upwards towards Phillip's chest. Spurt after spurt of creamy boy juice splattered on Phillip as he continued to shoot from his cock. After shooting a load that impressed even Mr. DeMarco. Phillip's massive orgasm tapered off. He then stood there, his hands still locked behind his neck. His chest heaving as he gasped for air, his entire torso splattered with cum.

Troy gave Phillip's softening dick one final hard squeeze and released his grip. "Not bad, big boy. Not bad," he said in a voice heavy with sarcasm as he stepped away from the model.

Now that his orgasm was over, Phillip stood staring at the floor. Overcome with embarrassment at the reality of what had just occurred. He couldn't believe he'd just allowed some flaming faggot to masturbate him. What self-respecting, heterosexual male would ever let a faggot jack him off? How sick was that? And Mr. DeMarco had witnessed the entire sordid spectacle. He could only imagine what his agent thought of him now.

Even as these thoughts ran through his head. He heard Mr. DeMarco telling him to look up. Phillip slowly raised his head in shame. But when his eyes finally met Mr. DeMarco's gaze. Phillip was pleasantly surprised that his agent looked at him as if nothing untoward had happened. If anything, the man seemed to be pleased by Phillip's actions! Reminding himself that it was Mr. DeMarco who had ordered Troy to jack him off. Phillip could feel some of his intense embarrassment dissipate. He had done what his agent had ordered, and the man was apparently pleased by Phillip's obedience. Maybe he had regained some of the ground he'd lost moments ago?

Then he heard Mr. DeMarco say, "That was a pretty big load, Phillip. Are you sure you've been handling business like we'd discussed the other day, jerking-off whenever you get aroused?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. DeMarco, I jack myself off whenever I get hard. Just like you said I should. It's just that, I seem to be hard all the time. I'm jacking-off pretty much all day. My dick is sore when I get to bed, and it's painful to work it, but I do anyway, just like you told me to."

"And you jerked-off this morning, too?"

"Yes, Sir, two times before I even got here today."

"So that was your third load of the day?" Mr. DeMarco asked, not hiding his surprise.

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, that was a pretty massive load for the third time today," Mr. DeMarco observed.

"Yes, Sir, it was," Phillip admitted, looking down at his chest and seeing that the cum was beginning to drip down his torso. "Sorry about that, Sir."

“You’ve been drinking the special water we give you?”

“Yes, Sir, all the time, just as you told me to. You said one or two bottles a day, so I’ve been drinking one bottle every day. Yes, Sir.”

“That’s odd. That water usually helps men control their erections so that they don’t occur so much.” But, of course, Mr. DeMarco was lying. His special water was the single reason why Phillip had been getting so many uncontrollable erections. It had a strong, tasteless chemical in it that caused one to get erect. Which was exactly what he wanted to happen to Phillip. He wanted him boned-up all the time. Only one bottle a day made Phillip a boner boy. Casually, Mr. DeMarco then said to him, “Well, maybe go to two bottles a day. Maybe that will stabilize your erotic temperament.” And so, Phillip agreed to do just that.

The F.I.T. Model
Part 7 of 8

“Like I said earlier, if this excessive sperm production continues, we may have to take more drastic measures." Then, seeing the look of apprehension on Phillip's face, Mr. DeMarco added, "But for now, Phillip, we'll stick with the two bottles of water. Just keep jerking off as soon as possible after you become aroused."

"Yes, Sir," Phillip quickly assented, relieved that, at least for the present, his agent didn't feel the need for “more drastic measures.” Phillip didn't know what those measures might be, but just the fact that they were described as “drastic” made him pretty sure he wouldn't like them.

Dean then turned to his receptionist. "Okay, Troy. You can get dressed and take Phillip up to the roof now."

The roof of the building had been fixed up into a lounge area with one table and four chairs for employees or models to take breaks. There were also several chaise lounges for the purpose of tanning and relaxing. It wasn’t just for the modeling agency but for any employees in any business in the 7-story building. Normally there were just a few who went up there for their lunchtime break, and often those women wanted to see hunky models lying out on the chaise lounges in their Speedos as they ate their lunch.

"Yes, Sir," Troy replied, walking over and stepping into his slacks. In less than half a minute, Troy was fully dressed. Troy turned to the still-naked model and said, "C'mon, Phillip, I'll show you the way."

But Phillip couldn't hide his shock. "I can't go like this. I mean," he explained, seeing Mr. DeMarco's frowning face, "I'm naked, and I'm covered with cum!”

"Well," Mr. DeMarco replied after a moment's thought, "Insofar as being naked is concerned, you're going to be sunbathing in the nude, so I don't see the problem. Besides, if others are up there also, you can learn to stop being so modest. And about the mess you made, well, like I said, get used to the smell because it helps you to get a more even tan. Now assume the position.”

Then, turning to Troy, Mr. Demarco said, “Work Phillip's cum into his body. We've already wasted enough time here in the office. It's time Phillip actually started getting some sun. In case you didn’t know it, semen adds protection against sunburn."

Just then, Mr. DeMarco realized that he had an appointment coming by in a few minutes. “Oh, no. Look, Troy, take him up to the lounge area and rub his cum in there. I’ve got some clients on their way up here any minute to see me.” Then he added another thought: “And Phillip, for Pete’s sake, try to avoid getting a boner this time.” Then, as a last word to Troy, he said, “But if he does, beat him off to get his dick to relax.”

“Come on, sweet cheeks, this way to the roof lounge and the sun.” He then ushered the semi-hard model down a hallway to an elevator that took them up to the roof. Phillip was relieved that no one saw him in the hall or in the elevator.

When the elevator doors opened, Troy walked his model a few steps to a back door and pushed that door open and out to the rooftop lounge. There was silence and a lot of laughter within a few seconds. “What the FUCK?” Phillip yelled.

“Easy slut. This is our little lounge area which also serves as the sun-tanning deck too.” But what had freaked Phillip out was a group of three guys of various ages sitting at the one table, laughing their heads off while gawking at the naked boy. The rooftop lounge was a small area that was a 12 x 15-foot concrete slab. One table with four chairs was on the side near the door they had just come out of. About eight feet away were several reclining chaise lounge chairs where someone could lay flat and relax in the sun. Sometimes models from DeMarco’s Agency would come here to lie out in the sun and tan themselves, but the thing was, they usually had a swimsuit on.

“I CAN’T BE OUT HERE NAKED! THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT HERE!” Phillip screamed in a hoarse whisper as he tried to cover up his semi-hard dick. And at the same time, he made a grab for the doorknob to go back inside.

“Take it easy, sweet cheeks. Mr. DeMarco wants you out here and wants you to start tanning now, so just ignore these ladies.” Troy said as he continued nudging and shoving Phillip past the guys to the first chaise lounge. Troy was supposed to rub the boy’s cum into his skin. So, with a big grin, he commanded, “Ok, let’s get started. Assume the position.”

Sometimes there were few people out there, but unbeknownst to Phillip, Troy had called some gay friends in a couple of other businesses in the building and mentioned that a hunky, naked man would be sunning himself on the roof today. Yeah, Troy had a huge smirk on his face, but he was trying to hide it from his boy-toy model.

Phillip was in a daze. He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or, even worse, a nightmare. Or maybe it was a joke, like on one of those prank TV shows. No, the reality was that it was all Troy’s setup. For some reason, Phillip never even questioned why they were using the chaise lounge nearest to the guys instead of the one furthest away. As he assumed the position. He at least had the common sense to turn his backside to the spectators, but just knowing they were staring and chatting about his ass made him tremble. In an attempt to calm himself, he tried willing them away, imagining they had to get back to work because their lunch break was over. In reality, he knew the three guys were only eight feet away and could see every touch Troy was making on his body.

“Please, let’s just go,” Phillip whispered, “I can tan on another day. Please?”

“Oh, stop being such a little bitch cunt. You know you like it when people watch you,” Troy said, but not at all in a whisper. The guys heard it as intended, and they giggled. All the while, Troy was rubbing his cum all around his backside.

“Hey Troy,” yelled one of the guys (they were all friends), “We know you have to do that, but please - we’d like our privacy here. We’d like to enjoy our break without being gawked at. Could you at least put a blindfold on him or something? OK?”

“OK, no worries. I think I have a cloth in my bag.” He then rummaged through the small bag of supplies he had brought to the roof and found a small, black cloth.

“Phillip, these guys out here think you might be a fag pervert, and they really don’t want you to watch them eat, so I’m going to blindfold you.”

“Yes, please do, and hurry. I don’t want them to think I’m up here being weird.” Troy knew the whole idea was strange, but somehow not seeing might make things easier. “Please hurry before one of them screams that I’m queer and I get arrested, or worse - Mr. DeMarco thinks I fucked up again.”

Troy folded the soft cloth to a two-inch strip, pulled it over the boy’s eyes, and then tied it off neatly at the back of Phillip’s head. It was nicely secured, and being two layers thick, Phillip couldn’t see anything. The blindfold also served another purpose - it helped Phillip relax. Since he couldn’t see anything humiliating, he could pretend he was in a very dark room where no one could see him. That felt much better.

“Ok, my little fag slut, I’m going to spin you around a few times to see if you have balance.” Troy took Phillip’s shoulders and turned him around and around a half-dozen times. The real reason was to disorient him, and he became disoriented. Troy had to steady him for a minute until he had his balance back again and could stand still, but poor Phillip had no idea he was now directly facing the guys.

Troy made Philip stand with his hands locked behind his head. Then, when he had finished rubbing the cum all over Philip’s chest. He stood more to the side. That way, the guys had an unobstructed view of Phillip’s full front, from the top of his head down to his toes. Philip couldn’t see but could feel Troy’s clothed body press against his back and ass.

“Ok, Phillip, your back is to the lunch group, so they can’t see your fudge pounder, and my body is blocking their view (which was not at all true). But I need you to help me out here - tell me how you like me to rub your faggot juice all over you.”

Again, Phillip objected in a forced whisper. “Stop calling me a fag! Those guys might hear you. I’m straight, I’ll always be straight, and I don’t want any faggots to get their jollies off even looking at me, damn it!” Then he added, “Just do your job, and I won’t help you.”

The whispering served no purpose anymore since the guys had quietly moved their chairs closer, within two feet of the boy’s flesh. They could see and hear everything. They could reach out and touch him if they wanted to … anywhere!

“OK, then we’ll just stay here and let the guys stare at you and laugh. The way we’re standing, with my front side against your backside, well, they probably think my zipper is down and that I’m fucking your cunt hole. So, if that’s OK with you, we’ll just stay here.” Then Troy began to thrust his hips forward and backward repeatedly. “In fact, I’m going to pretend I am fucking you, just like this. We can do this all day … or, you can cooperate.”

Phillip was in a no-win situation, but this fake humping was too weird. “OK, OK, yes, I’ll help,” he whispered. Troy noticed that another guy had joined the spectators and also two ladies. Troy knew all of them as co-workers in the building. So he put his index finger over his mouth to ensure they didn’t make any noise. However, a few flashes went off as some began taking photos.

On the other hand, these now six watchers had no idea that they, too, were being photographed…actually, videotaped. Dean DeMarco had hidden several cameras all around the lounge area, not specifically for Phillip because they were installed months ago, but to capture any sexy guys doing sexy stuff on the roof. All of this action was captured on video, and the juicy parts would certainly be included in the live material on the FIT website. Of course, FIT stood for “Fags in Training.” The “FIT” subscribers would eat this up.

“OK, tell me how to rub your chest,” Troy demanded.

“Troy, use your hands and rub my chest.” He spoke in a low voice, not really wanting anyone to hear him, but, of course, everyone did.

“No, not like that. Honey? Sweetie? You know I am a limp-wristed, silly queen. Tell me the way I want you to say it.” Then Troy put his mouth against Phillip’s ear and whispered, “I’ll start you off. Say, ‘tease my titties and pinch them all you want.’”

Phillip had a painful knot in his stomach but managed to whisper, “Tease my titties and pinch them all you want.” He was praying none of the watchers could hear him, but he didn’t know they were only two feet away.

Troy repeated, in a normal volume, “Oh really? Really? Would you like that?” Then again, whispering against Phillip’s ear, he said, “Say ‘please’ and then beg me. Convince me you want me to tease you all over … otherwise, I’ll turn you around and let all the watchers gawk at your big dick. And Phillip, I’m not fucking around. Do it exactly as I say, or I’ll spin you around and leave you here.” Troy sounded stern.

Phillip had no choice, “Please, please pinch my titties and tickle me all over, please? Troy? Please do that for me?”

“Geez. Well, aren’t you the closeted slut-cunt. Ok.”

Troy then used his fingernails all over Phillip's chest and belly and began pinching the boy’s nipples. Phillip moaned, and in between moans, he uttered ‘ouches’ when he felt fingers assaulting his nipples too painfully.

“Oh, what a fucking slut and little sissy faggot you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am a fucking slut and a sissy faggot,” Phillip moaned in painful pleasure as he experienced that erotic mix of pain and sensual touch that Troy was an expert at dishing out.

“Should I stop now? Or do you want me to continue?” On the word ‘continue,’ Troy pinched his nipples really hard.

“Ouch! No, please keep working on my titties.”

“And your belly too? At the same time?”

“Oh yes, please, I need that.”

Troy signaled with his hand for a couple of the guys to step forward. Most shook their heads no. But two did volunteer. So, when Troy removed his hands, one of the volunteers, Marc, used his left hand on one nipple, and the other guy, Joel, used his right hand on Phillip’s belly and began rubbing Phillip all over.

One of the other watchers silently but frantically pointed to Phillip’s huge stiff dick. Joel worked his hand down to Philip’s hips and shaved pubic area but avoided touching the boy’s dick, at least for now.

Marc then switched to the other nipple and began to pinch and pull on it firmly, holding it taut when pulled out.

“You’d better thank me, sweet pussy,” Troy reminded Phillip, this time not bothering to whisper.

“Oh yes, thank you for making my titties feel so good – OUCH – and please – OUCH – don’t stop,” Phillip said as he stood there totally naked, fully blindfolded, and with his fingers-locked hands behind his head.

“And oh, Phillip, one of the guys wants to know if you want him to help rub you. I think that would be a good idea, don’t you?”

Phillip returned to his very low throaty whisper and said, “Troy, I don’t think we should bother anyone. Please tell him no.” Upon hearing that, everyone tried to muffle their giggles. The guy with his radio helped by turning up the volume.

It was so funny to see this handsome, naked boy ‘whispering’ to Troy as if no one but Troy could hear him because everyone could. It was hilarious! And it was greater still because Phillip didn’t catch on.

“Oh, I think that would be rude, Phillip, very rude. And you might hurt that guy’s feelings.” Troy said calmly. “But it’s up to you. I mean, if you want to leave here sooner, well, it’s up to you.”

Phillip knew exactly what he was being told to do. “Yes, Sir, have that kind fellow help rub me down so we can finish sooner.”

“Don’t you think you should ask him yourself in a very polite manner?” Troy asked, “Just speak up, so he can hear you.”

“Please, Sir, thank you for your offer. I’d be so grateful if you’d help rub me down. Thank you so much.”

“So, where do you want me to rub you?” That new and booming voice from Marc surprised Phillip. “On your thighs? You want me to rub all around your thighs, do you?”

“Yes, please.” Now Phillip was telling a stranger to touch him! Or was it more that Marc was telling Phillip what to do?

Marc stooped down on the concrete slab and was in awe of Phillip’s huge dick jutting out directly into his face. There was a drip of pre-cum hanging off the tip, which Marc took away with his finger and then stuck the goo into his mouth.

And then everything changed. Troy backed away from Phillip’s backside, and one of the young ladies came up to ‘help,’ but she didn’t say anything as she reached out and began rubbing this sexy man’s body. Phillip must have been so fully into being rubbed and touched by various hands that he never noticed the absence of Troy’s body pressing against his backside. And with Marc and Joel and now Liz joining in, Phillip never caught on that more than four hands were touching him - it just felt too good. Phillip’s dick was bouncing, begging to shoot.

The group of watchers now numbered over a dozen. They were all clued in not to make any noise, but, boy, their cell phones were flashing and taking videos like crazy! It was fucking hot!

Phillip was going crazy. He was dizzy standing there and not all that stable on his feet. At one point, Phillip leaned to one side, where he thought Troy was still standing, and said in his lowest whisper, “Can I cum now? May I just grab my dick and jerk it off? It’ll only take a second. Please?”

EVERYONE heard him beg to be allowed to beat off his meat and cum! The music had been turned up a little bit louder - not blasting, still moderate - but loud enough to cover-up all the spectator’s giggles. However, Troy still heard him and darted back to where Phillip assumed he had been all along.

“Well, if you shoot, that would be a big relief for you, but Mr. DeMarco doesn’t want you to do it to yourself.”

“Yes, I know. Would you do it then, please? I just want to get out of here, and I’m sure you have better things to do, too.”

“But I don’t want to do it. And Marc here, whom you’ve invited up to rub you, doesn’t want to do it either. He doesn’t want to come across as a fag. He feels it would ruin his status with the ladies if he jerks off a pussy slut like you.”

“Please, Troy, I’m getting lightheaded. At least let me sit down.”

“Well, two other guys are sitting out here having lunch. You saw them earlier. They haven’t looked your way at all, so I think they’re straight. Yeah, I think so. They must think you’re a really faggoty queer whore, and can you blame them? You got a boner out here in public just because a couple of guys were kind enough to help you out by giving you a professional massage. I mean, lots of guys get massages, but they don’t get boners.”

Phillip felt dejected, but that dejection was overshadowed by the wonderful feeling of all the erotic touches he was given by various hands. He wasn’t thinking clearly, or more accurately, not thinking at all. His boner needed attention immediately, or else he’d go insane.

“Well, since you have no one here to do it for you, maybe one of the two eating their lunch might help. I think you should ask them to see if either is interested.”

Of course, there were no ‘two guys eating lunch’ - all the men and women there were already surrounding Phillip but staying silent.

“Troy, Please!” Phillip was now almost screaming in a very low whisper, “Please, I can’t do that. Please, Troy, let’s just go in. I’m all done out here anyway.” He was sure no one, but Troy could hear him, but everyone covered their mouths to hold in their laughs. No one wanted to spoil this precious moment.

“I’ve already given you the only solution, Phillip. Now, as I’ve just learned, those fellows’ names are Ahmed and Gus. Call them over here and politely ask them. I also strongly suggest that you tell them you are a faggot and need their help.”

As Troy was speaking, Marc was on his knees, lightly tickling Phillip’s ball sac, mesmerized by watching that huge boner jerk up and down, up and down. Phillip couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Ok, but hurry, Troy!”

“No, you hurry! I said for you to call them over and explain you’re a faggot and beg them to assist you with your needs.”

Suddenly, in a loud, clear tone, thinking the two guys were far away, Phillip called out, “Ahmed? Gus? Would you come over here, please?” Of course, they were already within a foot of him, but they waited to speak up so that it would seem like it took a little while to walk over to him.

“Yes?” Ahmed said in a kind of British accent as the two presented themselves.

“I … I … need your help to …,” then Phillip lowered his voice to a whisper and continued, “… beat-off. I’m just a faggot, and I’m not supposed to touch myself. It’s difficult to explain, but can one of you just pull on my dick so I can climax?”

Meanwhile, Marc, Joel, and Liz continued to tickle-tease Phillip everywhere except on his dick.

Ahmed took the lead and said, “Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to be the one acting like a pussy out here in public. I just don’t know.”

“Gus, how about you? Please? This is embarrassing. It’ll only take a minute. Please?”

Gus replied, “Well, I feel the same as Ahmed here. I don’t want to be seen as a cock-sucking faggot either.” Then there was a pause where no one spoke. Then Gus added, “Well, if Ahmed joins me, then I won’t be alone. I would do it with him.”

“Is that OK, Ahmed? Will you join in with … OH GOD! FUCK!”

Phillip began jerking and twisting his entire body because of the overwhelming sensation of his balls being pulled and tickled. “Pa … pa … please, can it be done quickly!” He was nearly tearing up with pain from feeling so humiliated.

“Ok, but on one condition, we don’t like taking orders and being told what to do by a fruitcake, and you are a fruitcake pussy boy, aren’t you?” Ahmed asked politely.

By now, Phillip had run out of patience. “YES! OK, YES, I’M A FUCKING FRUITCAKE, A FAGGOT, A LOW-LIFE QUEER PUSSY, OK? YES, PLEASE, CAN WE JUST GET THIS OVER WITH?” It was amazing to witness how a guy like Phillip just stood there, with his huge jerking boner and his hands still clasped behind his head, proclaiming he was a faggot and begging these guys – anyone - to just fucking make him climax.

“But you didn’t let me finish,” Ahmed calmly continued with no sense of urgency. “I don’t want you to tell us what to do. We aren’t fucked-up asshole fags like you, so you can’t just order us around. We will do it, but you must let us do it our way.”

“OK! YES! PLEASE JUST GET ME OFF SO WE CAN END THIS,” he begged. Then, as he calmed down, he added, “Thank you, thank you so much,” as he began to tear up even more.

Troy then chimed in, “Well, this is all fine with me. I’ll just sit down and watch. I might learn something. But a warning to you, Phillip - you’d better appreciate these helpers. Do I make myself clear?” Phillip murmured a defeated, “Yes, Sir.”

Meanwhile, Troy was checking out all the hidden cameras - he knew where everyone was. He smiled broadly, thinking this would be some of the best video footage he and his Dad, Dean DeMarco, had ever created. It was all going so well, and with these scenes, he figured they would have enough for several hours of Phillip’s total humiliation. All the ‘special water’ they had given him over the last four days had kept his dick hard almost constantly. The FIT website would charge a bundle for each 30-minute segment, one segment each night, and the pay-per-view members would clamor for more. Boy-oh-boy, Phillip was going to make them a fortune.

But Phillip was barely paying attention to words because the erotic input he was experiencing was short-circuiting his brain. He was having trouble standing and didn’t even notice a couple of hands on each side of him helping to hold him steady. All Phillip knew was that he kind of felt like he was floating.

Then Phillip heard a voice saying words that echoed in his head: “He’s a fag…he can’t climax unless he’s being fucked.”

The F.I.T. Model
Part 8 of 8

“I don’t want to fuck him, but he does have a nice ass.”

“Maybe you should suck off his dick?”

“I thought Jimmy wanted to jek him?”

“I can fuck him, but this is all so public. Do you think he’d mind?”

“Are you crazy? He wants a dick or fist up his ass all the time!”

There were so many hands and fingertips on his body, some pinching his nipples, others pulling on his balls. Liz had her stiff-bristled hairbrush out, and it was running it slowly down the full length of his shaved crack, but no one was actually touching his proud, bouncing dick. In the total darkness that the blindfold provided, Phillip was floating. There was no other word to describe his light-headed feeling of zero control. At some point, the guy on each side of him, holding him steady, took a hand and moved his arms straight out to each side, like wings on a plane, but he didn’t realize that - he was lost.

One person then lifted up his left foot. At least Phillip thought that might be happening because he felt tickling on his toes and sole. At some point in time, a mouth had replaced the fingers working on his nipples, and each mouth was sucking hard. Phillip was now moaning nonstop, thrusting his hips forward, trying to get his dick to bump into something that would trigger it to shoot.

Then someone started to fuck him … or was that just a finger tickling his ass lips? Ahmed pulled Phillip’s blindfold up off one ear for a moment and said, close to his ear, “If you want to shoot, you just have to say the magic phrase, OK? We'll beat you off quickly as soon as we hear it.”

So, Phillip said what he was sure they all wanted to hear: “I’m a faggot.” But nothing happened.

So, he tried again: “I’m a pussy.” Nothing.

“I’m a fag whore.” Nothing.

“I’m a slut, and I want to be fucked.”

“I’m a fucked-up piece of shit,” but still, the hands kept teasing him everywhere except on his angry dick.

“I’m a cunt mouth.”

“I like to suck dick.”

“Please fuck me.”

“I am a scumbag shit eater.”

People applauded that one! But Phillip couldn’t hear anything with his blindfold back over his ears. His balls and ass crack were being tickle-teased and scratched with fingernails, and all the while, he continued to hold his arms out like the wings of a plane. He was going crazy.

“I’m a faggot slut whore.”

“I get fucked three times a day.”

“I love cock, cut and uncut.”









Phillip was all out of phrases, and he still had no idea what they wanted to hear.

“Please, guys, let me be a whore and suck all of you off right now.” Oh god … he was exhausted. He was so humiliated, saying all those faggot things, that he started to cry. Then he tried one more time.

“I really am a fag queer. I swear to God, really, I’m a pussy. I love to get my pussy cunt stuffed.” …

That was it - he quit. “Guys, I just want to end this.” He then sobbed and blurted out, “May I cum?”

The blindfold was again lifted up off one ear. “That’s it! You said it, ‘May I cum?’” Almost immediately, a couple of fingers started invading his asshole. His nipples were pinched and held tautly, and someone pulled his ball sac down. After a slippery hand made one, two, three strokes on his dick, he shot all over those around him. Volley after volley came - he shot everywhere. He nearly passed out when he finally began to feel the ebb of all his energy.

Phillip was lightheaded and dizzy. He was still dripping out smaller shots of cock juice even as he was being laid onto one of the chaise lounge chairs, but the blindfold still hadn’t been removed. Troy then announced that he wanted everyone to go back into the building and get back to work, which happened quickly as they were all out there longer than they should have been.

When it was, just Phillip and Troy left on the roof. Troy removed the blindfold, and Phillip squinted to get used to the daylight…it was still sunny, of course. “Now get your full-body tan going. You’ll have good sun yet this afternoon. I’ll be back up here to get you in two hours.” Then Troy turned and added, “I knew you were a faggot whore all the time. You couldn’t have made that clearer to me or anyone else out here today.”

Phillip reviewed all the names they had called him and all the names he had called himself! Oh, my! How humiliating. Had he tried convincing them that he was a faggot and even swore to God? Geez! Whoever was out there. Those he had seen at first and all the others he had never seen. He just hoped he’d never run into any of them again.

The next day, Troy didn’t come to work. He had an all-day chore – though it was a lot of fun for him – of editing almost 40 hours of hidden video of Phillip. He was absolutely amazed at the sexual heat that radiated from every scene. Poor Philip! He had fallen for it all. The special water, which he believed, as he was told, would help control his sexual cravings and add healthy ingredients to his daily life, in reality, only gave him constant boners.

On that website, they showed videos to their pay-per-view members, and the models were billed as straight guys only. 90% of the videos were taken by hidden cameras, the other 10% being obvious interview footage. Most of those were edited in such a way as to make the models either seem sexually friendly to gays or bitterly anti-gay, whichever was the most shocking concerning that model.

Yes, straight models only. That’s what they advertised, which seemed to be 100% true. The fun for the viewing audience was to see how far these straight macho boys, usually 18 to 24 years of age, would go to try to complete their FIT Program at the DeMarco Agency. Obviously, these young men, totally unknown, would give their right arm to be a celebrity. God, to be a famous international male model? These young men would jump through any hoops, no matter how silly, degrading, or emasculating the requirements.

The DeMarcos would begin with minor requirements. For example, they required a model to be naked in front of others in order to learn to not be shy. Then came nudity in public as an additional step. At some point, a FIT model was required to massage another male - nothing sexual there - but the next time, the guy’s dick and balls needed to be ‘massaged’ as well. The model might have to kiss another male’s bare feet in another training session. Later, there would be a session on deep-kiss, another model to prove he harbored no anti-gay feelings. Of course, boners would seem to develop amid anything remotely intimate, and no one ever blamed them because of the ‘special health water’ they were given to drink.

The FIT website viewers knew all about the erotic effects that the special water caused, and they loved that kind of trickery. In fact, anything sneaky or underhanded used by the DeMarcos to manipulate these manly hunks into participating, unwittingly, in homoerotic interactions was an inducement for the viewer to pay a high bonus fee to watch.

That afternoon, Phillip was placed in a chair before a video camera. He was handed a list of statements to read and questions to answer. “Phillip, we need to make a video of how you are doing.”

“But Mr. DeMarco, I’m naked, and my … my … ah … dick is up again. Shouldn’t I get dressed?”

“We’re just testing your appeal on video to see how you come across. It’s all a part of the FIT program to improve your marketability. Don’t worry about how you're dressed or about your boner – we’re only filming you from the neck up, OK?” Phillip said he understood and became more relaxed.

Some of the info on the sheet was:

1. State your full name and address, where you work, etc. – THIS IS FOR OUR PRIVATE RECORDS ONLY.
2. Give a greeting as if you were addressing a group of important, high-class people.
3. Talk about how you used to feel about gay men.
4. Talk about how you feel about them now.
5. Talk about your sexuality.
6. Talk about how hard you will work to please whoever hires you as a professional model.
7. Talk about your family, especially your little brother.
… and the list went on.

The idea was to have Phillip say a lot of words and phrases, enough so that Troy could then edit the video to make it seem as if Phillip was very different than he actually was, including making it seem as if he were saying obscene and degenerate things on the video. Troy was good at taking words and phrases out of context and copying and pasting them together in such a way as to suit the objective of the agency.

For example, when Phillip said this:

“Thank you, Mr. DeMarco, for letting me enter your FIT program. I am going to work hard to be your best model. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

Then Philip launched into his official introduction:

“Hi, everyone!” Phillip said in a booming, friendly voice. “I’m Phillip Callum, and I live at 3432 W. Main St. in Chicago with my parents and my little brother, Craig, a good boy. We make up a very normal family, not odd or unusual at all. They always knew I would make it big in some field and loved me for being such a hard worker. I can be the best boy model ever! I love to come in and put a whole lot of effort into every shoot.”

“I know that many straight guys like to call gay men fags, queers, pussies, or cunts, but I’m getting over all my negative feeling for them. I’m as straight as they come, but I hope all of you will like me as your model because I’ll provide you with the best service in order to please you greatly. It would also make me very happy if you would call me soon for a modeling job.”

But Troy heavily edited those words and came up with THIS version: …

“Hi, everyone! I’m Phillip Callum, and I live at 3432 W. Main St. in Chicago. - It would make me so happy to - be your best pussy and cunt. - I hope all of you will be pleased. - My little brother, Craig, - is - a - straight guy - but - trainable to be - a - fag - and - queer - like me - and - be happy - to please you greatly - as - a good - boy cunt - I do come a lot when I shoot. Soon - everyone - will - call my brother Craig - queer. We make up a very - odd family - but - fag - trainable.” And, of course, it went on and on, all of it degrading.

The real interview lasted about two hours, and the edited one was only 20 minutes long, but it devastated Phillip. Naturally, the DeMarcos never let him see it. This bastardized tape (and others like it that were made weekly) would serve two purposes. First, it could be used as blackmail if Phillip ever wanted to quit the agency: Dean DeMarco would threaten to send it to his parents.

Second, it would be used to introduce Phillip to the FIT website. While Phillip appeared to be saying all these degrading things about himself and his family in one tape, the viewers would also be shown the sections of the original interview so that they could see how this new model was being humiliated. This was all great for the viewers - they would know Phillip was straight and wanted to watch straight boys get bent – but they could also see how the agency was changing them through various tricks and methods.

A big plus in this video that made it all the more indecent and obscene was that it was not just a close-up of his face as promised. Rather, the tape showed his fully naked, boned-up body. Furthermore, as Phillip spoke, Dean DeMarco ordered him to beat off. During the interview, Phillip agreed to jerk his dick continuously because he was told the video would only show his head. Being naked and pounding his dick in front of Mr. DeMarco was not unusual for him at this point, as he had been trained to do that all along.

It was powerful. Phillip was saying all these made-up, awful things about his little brother as he was beating off. How much more convincing could you get?

Phillip thus became the number-one money-maker for the FIT website for the next five months. During those initial months, Phillip went along with everything, believed everything, and thought all was OK, as he believed he was on a path to international model stardom. But then a former FIT model who was still very angry with the obscene way the DeMarcos had treated him bumped into Phillip at one of the modeling auditions for swimwear, and he told Phillip what was really going on. Still, it took a while for Phillip to understand how he had been so abused, used, and disgraced.

Finally, Phillip hit the roof and hurried over to the Agency to have it out with the DeMarcos. He planned to tell them off and then threaten to call the police. He wasted no time getting there and immediately began yelling and screaming at Troy and his Dad. The DeMarcos remained calm while being careful not to get hit as Phillip flayed his fists around as he ranted on and on. They knew this day would come because it always did at some point. All the while this was happening, Troy was doing something on the computer.

At last, Troy turned the computer screen toward Phillip, hit the play button, and turned the volume up rather loud - and there was a completely naked Phillip, smiling his big stupid grin and beating his big, hard dick as he spoke clearly and cheerfully:

“Hi, everyone. I’m Phillip Callum, and I live at 3432 W. Main St. in Chicago. It would make me so happy to be your best pussy and cunt. I hope all of you will be pleased. My little brother Craig is a straight boy but trainable to be a fag and a queer like me, and he’d be happy to please you greatly as the best boy cunt ever. Soon everyone will call him queer. We make up a very odd family but fag-trainable.”

Phillip stood in total shock with his eyes and mouth wide open. The video speech continued on …

“Yes, I love to mouth a pole and to take it up my hole. I can’t tell you all what my Mom and I will be cooking up tonight, but she is such a cunt! Maybe I’ll bring home a camcorder so you all can watch us perform as I continue my training on this wonderful FIT show …”

Phillip was weak-kneed and fell lifelessly back into the seat he was standing in front of. That had all happened five months ago. He didn’t remember saying any of that, but it was undeniable that it was him being totally disgusting. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“Look, Phillip, to ease your mind, you didn’t really say any of that shit. With today’s modern video editing programs, we can take your words and paste them in any order we wish. So, no, you never actually said that.”

But that didn’t help Philip to understand the full complexity of what was happening. He just stared up at Dean DeMarco’s face.

“Look. We have no intention of showing this to the police …” Mr. DeMarco said.

“The POLICE?” Phillip blurted out.

“Yes, we won’t show it to the police or to your parents …”


“Calm down! Look, this video and the 11 or so other videos we …”

“11 other videos?” Phillip was in a daze, completely overwhelmed.

“Yes, we don’t intend to show any of them to anyone,” Mr. DeMarco paused. “Now, does that make you feel better?” He paused again, letting Phillip get over the initial shock. “As long as you’re happy to continue to work for us, just as in the past, these videos and other incriminating evidence against you will remain locked in a safe place.”

Mr. DeMarco then explained, “Now that you know about your being on a sex website, trash-talking to everyone, we can cut the bullshit, and you can perform more openly. In fact, we’re going to do some entertaining stuff, like put another guy in your video whom you will beg to fuck your pussy. At first, of course, he won’t want to – he’ll be a ‘straight’ fellow - but on the show, you will plead and beg him to fuck you. I have no idea how you’ll get him to do that, so I can’t wait to watch you in live-action. It will be fun to see how well you do and how well he does.”

“So? Are we clear that you would love to continue performing for us?”

Phillip was non-responsive.

“Or should I send this video to your poor Mommy and Daddy? Gosh, maybe they’ll both get heart attacks.”

Phillip still didn’t say anything.

“Look, I know you’re scared, frightened out of your wits. But still, I need an answer.” He got only silence from Phillip.

“Troy,” Mr. DeMarco said in a loud voice, “Make a DVD of this tape and mail it to …”

“NO, WAIT … I’ll do it. Please don’t send it to my … to anyone. I’ll do it. Please, let me continue. I don’t want my parents to have heart attacks. Please. I’ll do it. Please let me do it.” Phillip then put his open palms over his face and began to cry.

“That’s great! We’ll just let bygones be bygones, and now we’ll really be in business. All the horrid videos we have of you will be seen by no one. You have my word.”

It took Phillip only a few days to come to grips with this new reality, and he accepted it as best he could. The DeMarcos went on to use Phillip for nearly another full year in total. They finally had to stop because he was beginning to look and act freaky - he was no longer the bright-eyed little cutie he had once been. His eyes were frequently glazed over, he probably never got a lot of real sleep, and Phillip seemed to not care anymore. At one point, during an argument, Phillip yelled, “Go ahead and send all those fucking videos to anyone you want to. I don’t care!” The DeMarcos had just used him up. Phillip was no longer model material for FIT or for anyone else, and thus it was a mutual end of their working arrangement.

On the last day, Mr. DeMarco told Phillip, “We are all finished with you, but the videotapes we made of you will force you to remain silent. But listen clearly: Troy will drop you off at your parent’s home now. You won’t be coming back here. You made us a lot of money doing every sadistic, sexual act we could come up with, and it was good while it lasted, but now we are finished with you.”

Mr. DeMarco looked at Phillip like a concerned dad would look at his hurting son. “But listen, your behavior is a little weird and fucked-up. When he drops you off, Troy will tell your folks that you somehow got hooked on drugs. We don’t have any clothes for you to wear home, but that will make our trumped-up, drugged-out story ring truer.” Dean paused, “You will confirm to your folks that you stupidly turned to drugs and that you are sorry and will get off them soon. I NEED YOU TO STICK TO THIS STORY IN ORDER TO EXPLAIN YOUR WEIRD BEHAVIOR AND YOUR DAZED LOOK. You'll get over it. Plus, your folks will be so happy that you see the light and love and care about them both so much that you will give up taking drugs.”

Well, it was really, really bad for Phillip, but at least he was now free of these assholes for good! He could get his life back, and his shit together soon and forget about this awful part of his past.

Months later, the DeMarcos remembered how much money Phillip had made for them. It was more than the next half-dozen brought in all together. “You know, Dad, he was good for us. It’s been, what, three months now? I’m sure Phillip’s back to his cute, happy self by now.” Troy said to his Dad.

“Yeah, I’ll bet he’s back to being that cute, sexy stud we initiated into modeling.” Dean DeMarco agreed.

It was weird how they were both silent yet thinking of the same fun, good times. Mr. DeMarco then looked into his son’s face with his impish eyes and wicked grin and said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, son?”

The next day, Phillip was back at the DeMarco Modeling Agency, standing outside the door with great trepidation. It took a lot for Mr. DeMarco to get him to agree to come over. He told him on the phone that Phillip could have all the incriminating videos they had if he would just stop by. Phillip eventually got up the courage to walk through the door, where Troy greeted him at the reception desk.

Troy pressed the intercom and said, “Mr. DeMarco, Mr. Callum is here to see you.” Then he said to Phillip, “Go right in, sweet cheeks.” That was the first greeting Troy gave Philip so long ago.

“Oh, yes. Hi, Phillip. How are you?” Mr. DeMarco said in a booming, friendly voice.

“You said you’d give me all the videos and stuff.”

“Ah yes, yes I did. Here, here, take a seat.” Phillip was suspicious but waited to receive the videos.

“Yes, the videos,” his voice trailed off to a mumble. Then he spoke up louder and said, “Yes, of course, the videos. Ah … we need to talk about that.”

Just then, Troy came in with some paperwork - it was Phillip Callum’s file. He looked at Phillip and remarked, "Oh, he's so butch, Mr. DeMarco," Troy faked a lisp just as before. "I’ll bet he's a real bull in bed,” he said as he laid the file on his Dad’s desk.

“That’s enough, Troy. Phillip is here to make a deal with me, so cool it, OK?” Troy just stood there, eager to see how this would play out.

“OK, yes, I’ll do you a huge favor and return all the videos, but you have to do me a tiny favor first.” Phillip knew this was too good to be true…his gut just knew it.

“What tiny favor?” Phillip said in a serious, unemotional tone.

“I need you to appear one more time on my FIT website. Just one more time. Then we are done, and you can have the videos.”

Phillip sadly shook his head no. He was already disgusted with himself for believing the bait-story that got him there in the first place. “No.,” he said in a low voice and stood up to leave.

Mr. DeMarco looked up at Troy and asked, “Where is Phillip’s contact information? I believe we have his parents’ phone number there, too, don’t we?” Phillip froze where he stood, wondering what was happening as Mr. DeMarco dialed a phone number.

“Hi, my name is Dean DeMarco. I’m afraid I have some horrible news about your son …”

“Please, no,” Phillip whispered pleadingly in a hoarse voice.

“You see, and I’m sorry if this is too embarrassing to tell you, but your son has gotten himself into a lot …”

“Please, Mr. DeMarco, please hang up. Please,” he begged in a harsh whisper again.

“As I was about to say, the police will probably arrest your son any day now for lewd behavior and indecent exposure, and there might even be some child abuse …”


Mr. DeMarco covered the phone receiver with his hand and said sternly to Phillip, “Well, if you are serious about helping me out here, you’ve got 30 seconds to strip naked and then two minutes to work up a firm boner, or your entire past will be exposed here and now.”

“I’m so sorry, I keep getting interrupted here, but as I was saying, the police will come over there and charge …” Phillip started to furiously tear off his clothes, literally ripping his shirt off and shoving his pants and shorts down. Then he started to pump his dick. Mr. DeMarco watched, waiting to see Phillip’s boner.

“Look, Mrs. Smith, I’m sorry to have to tell you that …” and then an abrupt pause. “What? You aren’t Mrs. Janet Smith? … Oh my, I’m so, so sorry. I have the wrong number. Sorry to have bothered you. Bye.”

Phillip hoped he could get his dick fully hard in record time. He was sweating and squinting his face, concentrating on getting it up. “Please, just give me another minute, please!” He realized that Mr. DeMarco had hung up and that he had apparently pleased him enough to stop his threat to expose him - that took some of the pressure off, but now he really needed to work it up. He knew he needed to please the DeMarcos for one more show, and he’d do anything to avoid those filthy videos from getting to his folks or, worse, going public!

Dad and son looked at each other. They were so happy to have their cute stud Phillip back. Yes, they had told him it would be just one more show on the pay-per-view website, but they both figured they’d get another six months of shows by continuing to threaten the release of those videos. Yep, they knew they had their newly re-constituted fag-hating, cock-sucking, FIT model back for quite a while.

The End

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