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The Organisation: The Recruiter
I had been watching him for almost an hour now.
It was an exquisite treat. His ordeal was my joy, his sexual innuendos slowly but surely turning into a pure erotic display of his prowess.
His body was a work of art.
I, and the whole community of his fans, knew we owed his perfectly formed muscles to his school’s team of coaches, men who had dedicated their careers to the boys they trained, they cared for.
The boy’s face however, those flawless features, had been the true reason for me to work with him.
He, as so many young people do these days, had published pictures and even videos on various platforms, and the sophisticated algorithm my organisation uses found him for his ‘flawless face’, his ‘perfect skin’, and his ‘huge dick’.
I leaned back in my chair as the boy on screen worked his body for the camera. He was perfect.
He knew he was being watched, and he knew men all over the world shared the joy of seeing him. He had been carefully groomed to show his off his best long before I openly contacted him and told him about the facts of his new life.
I, as many others, watched the footage with pure admiration. He was certainly a sight to behold.
His skin was glistening in the bright lights he used nowadays when filming himself, highlighting his muscles, his deep six-pack, his very defined build. He was ripped, and I had suggested he use baby-oil, and he complied with my wish like the good boy he now was.
His hands roamed, massaged, caressed, worked his body. At first there had been the need for me to give him clear orders to improve his performance in front of the camera. Now he performed willingly, seemed to like what the faceless commentators online told him to do.
I had even sent him equipment, at first disguised as test samples, and he fell into my trap.
He thought a company had selected him to be the perfect candidate to represent his group of peers in a marketing exercise. I had sent him test samples of candy bars, protein shakes, certain types of sneakers and other products boys his age use and wear.
He was deeply involved in the process, gladly accepting the products I sent, eagerly testing the newest items the industry came up with.
I sent him a webcam, and he installed it the minute he unpacked it. He had no idea the product not only filmed him directly, but also hooked up to his phone and the Door-Bell camera and all the other items a modern house is equipped with, ready to collect information all around the clock. After a while he had installed a state of the art surround sound system in his room, small speakers and tiny microphones surrounding him which not only gave crystal-clear sound but also integrated him into my network even more perfectly. We now were able to film him from all angles, accurate enough to design a 3D model of him, a model we used in perfectly realistic AI videos as well as moulds of his perfect body.
He was so used to testing the newest products that he always tested the items I sent him as soon they arrived, filling out the latest form with his thoughts and reviews, giving honest opinions on the newest test-product, before he forgot all about it, just like all the other things I had sent him.
I, however, did not forget. The trap was set, and the boy walked into it without even realising it.
I watched him, filed the footage, spied on him as he worked on his computer doing school homework. I was there when he was surfing the web, spied on him playing online games, watching films and listening to music.
As I have already said, the device I used to spy on him was much more than just a normal webcam. I hacked his computer with it, planted the seed that slowly but surely infiltrated the computer and took over all the other items in his house as well. He gave products he had tested to friends and family, and soon alarm-clocks, wall-clocks, a new TV, intelligent assistants to provide useful information in the kitchen and such filled the house and gave me access to every aspect of my boy’s life.
I had slowly, subtly, changed his internet feed. The algorithm no longer responded to his preferences, it did not show those crazy stunt videos, or videos of girls washing cars in small bikinis. It now showed more and more boys.
He watched sporting events, watched boys perform athletic gymnastics, wrestle, box, workout, all in very tight, very revealing outfits, while the company made him test protein shakes that slowly lowered his inhibitions.
Not too long ago he did not even try on the multiple pieces of clothing I sent him, like the small Speedos or tight shorts. Now, however, the influencers online had planted the seed, and the boy wore revealing outfits not just for workouts, fun and relaxation, but also in public.
For today’s show, in the privacy of his bedroom, he was soon almost naked, teasing his audience before he would even get rid of the last piece of fabric that had hidden his cock and balls.
His hands roamed, slid down over his pecs, working his nipples for a moment, caressing his prominent six-pack, before they reached into his tight pair of briefs.
The online users went crazy, bombarding him with comments.
Every comment, every lewd suggestion to ‘get your dick out‘ was combined with a tip. The men paid like mad, as the boy slowly worked his fat cock with his hands, still hidden inside his spandex briefs.
I read the comments and it became obvious that the users evidently knew what equipment the boy had at hand, products I had sent him over the course of the last few weeks.
He had worked to test stuff for almost two years now, and after he turned 18 I could really have him perform more openly on the internet.
I saw him grab an item I had sent him just before his birthday. I could see from his face it was a shock, but he was already much to entrenched in my network to refuse my suggestions.
At first I had told him that it was just me watching as he unpacked a vacuum-pump system – some clear vacuum lines and a set of three plastic cylinders.
It was a joy to watch him push the smallest of the cylinders over his cock, to see him feel the suction for the first time, a joy to hear his breathing quicken, his moans turn into grunts as his cock filled the cylinder.
Today, as the comments all but ordered him to give his penis-pump show, he grabbed and used the biggest cylinder, sucking his dick painfully to almost 10 fat hard inches.
Everybody knows the effect is not permanent, but it’s still very impressive. The boy grunted as he moved the cylinder up and down on his shaft, using a free hand to work his nipples, even licking his fingers and pushing them into his own ass.
It was hard to tell if he had simply given into the men online, given into the blatant orders they gave him, or he really liked to debase himself for his audience.
He gave the hottest show anyone could wish for, moaning, groaning, grunting, screaming out his lust, pumping the cock in and out of the device, fucking his own ass with his fingers.
There was even a mini camera inside the suction cylinder, and I along with other users shared the sensation of his cumshot in a close-up, hitting the camera lens with white hot seed.
I watched him slowly pulling the pump off his dick, watched him from several angles, even from the inside of the pump. His fat pink dickhead slid back, the cum dripping off the walls of the cylinder in almost slow motion, leaving the audience breathless. Many men commented on the amount and thickness of his cum, offering to pay for a sample, for the pleasure of cleaning his cock with their tongues.
I watched the boy blush as he read those comments.
It was quite cute. He performed in the lewdest gay online sex sessions and still considered himself straight, was still shy about his sexuality, was a virgin when it came to actual intercourse.
I had filmed him with a few girls, but that stopped when he turned 18. My audience did not pay to watch him doing vanilla stuff with girls, they waited eagerly for the first guy to fuck our little object of desire.
I watched the boy clean up. The pump had to be cleaned by hand, and he meticulously worked on that task, making sure the device was squeaky clean.
I loved to watch him do this. He took the cylinder with him into his shower, and the internet watched him clean up his body as well as the device he had just used to do all those unspeakable things the paying users wanted him to do.
It had been a process. As I said earlier, he considered himself straight when I started to work him.
After our system had discovered him I did my research. He had really caught my eye after a friend I contacted had given me further information. The friend was a good source of good-looking boys, or, as we called them, fresh meat. He was a high-school teacher, a coach for several sports, ranging from swimming and wrestling to baseball, football, and even soccer.
He literally held the boy’s future in his hands when he first made him drink the special fitness shake I provided.
I had given the man clear instructions not to use or abuse my new star, and with the money I paid him plus the videos I already had of him fucking another boy’s face or ass I had enough leverage to keep the coach in line.
Now, however, after almost two years, the boy’s cherry was ripe for the picking.
As usual I did not do the job personally. I never do. I sit and watch. You will never see me, find me.
I leave no traces.
The boys and some men I work with accused me of being a spy for Russia or North Korea, and the idea is not so far fetched considering the high-tech equipment I have at my disposal, but they are still wrong.
However, I use the footage for my own private enjoyment before I sell it. In our boy’s case, the footage is even more valuable as the boy’s dad is a political figure, a high ranking official working for a well known government agency, a bigoted bible-thumper, a right wing evangelical who prays water and drinks wine, literally, while fucking young female interns.
My boy is scared to death that his father might find out what he does day by day, while the father himself delivers the footage to kill his career.
On my screens the boy was slowly towelling dry, his rampant cock still swollen from the session with the powerful pump. I knew men all over the world were still watching. Depending on certain factors, the boy would restart his session, working another load out of his balls, or dress and leave.
I was watching the scene unfolding in front of me. The boy was now in his closet, deciding what outfit he should best wear for the afternoon.
I knew his calender. He had planned to hang out at the mall, meet friends from school, maybe hook up with a few cute girls from school.
He was still naked, and I subtly influenced his decision with the start of another video on his TV. He had jerked of in front of his computer, but now his TV played music videos, and the performers were sexy boys, dancing seductively, flaunting their well trained bodies while singing their songs filled with sexual subtexts, with clear invitations to all kinds of impure actions, fornications, debauchery.
I had to smile when those words came to mind, repeating what the boy’s mom and dad told him about the sin of sex.
I knew the dad loved to force young interns to fellate him until they gagged on his cock, swallowing load after load of his cum, but at the same time he pretended to be pure and chaste.
The boy on my screen was now openly admiring himself in the huge mirror mounted on the wall.
He knew he was a work of art, moulded under the supervision of his coach, the man the boy loved and respected the most.
The videos of the boy’s workouts sold like hotcakes.
Men loved to watch a sexy, muscled, tightly dressed coach working a jock to exhaustion, making a boy push his limits until he almost fainted, begging for mercy before the coach gave the sign to stop and rest.
The videos were almost sadistic, and they also had provided the world with a few of the hottest young athletes anyone could wish for. A real win-win.
Right now, the boy admired his own mirror image while slowly pumping his cock. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before the impressive set of balls would boil over again and a second cumshot would gush out, maybe hitting the mirror, maybe caught in the boy’s open palm.
I had slowly taught the sexy athlete to lick up his own protein-shake to make sure he didn’t loose any of his energy, and the naive athlete followed the advice.
I switched between several angles, and soon saw the boy’s tight ass-cheeks clench. I knew my young charge always clenched his ass when he came, one more thing a future lover would appreciate while fucking the living daylights out of the sexy sporty little sextoy.
While I watched, I decided to interfere with the boy’s plans for today.
I had done it before, at first with little tricks like sending a new package with a product the boy had to test as soon as possible, now more openly.
I sent an email, and I even heard the ding‘ the inbox gave when the email arrived over the microphones, still broadcasting each and every movement in the boy’s room.
Still naked, still hard, still dripping, the boy walked over and checked his mail.
He froze, a clear sign of recognition, easily detectable for anyone watching. The random audience was oblivious of the new order the boy had just received, but they were delighted to watch as the boy chose a very slutty outfit to go out.
The jock knew he had better obey. The mystery man on the other end of his computer had clearly shown his ability to punish him if he didn’t do exactly as ordered, and the boy was terrified of the consequences. In a way I loved the power I had over this virile young stud, a power I never would have had in any real altercation. However, the boy would never get the chance to fight me for real.
I thought back. Not too long ago he had once refused to wear the short shorts and pink slut-top I told him to wear when visiting the mall. I had told him there would be consequences, and when he had to use a restroom, I had set up a trap: Eight men cornered the boy, made him kneel against his will, and then they soaked him with their piss. I remembered it well. I just had to contact his fanbase, and really quickly a few volunteers had offered to work him over. The organisation provided two more men to lead the others, so the result was perfect. The assembled group showed the boy what was in store for him, and the very restrained and limited execution of the punishment was even more intimidating to him, showing him it was no random act of a randy group of men.
Wet from the stinking liquid, all the boy could do was wash up at the sink as good as possible and try to hide from the public and run to his car to vanish, undetected by his friends.
His computer at home had been full of the footage of the ordeal, uploaded by me remotely, and while the boy frantically tried to delete the files, empty the cache, abandon the website and even download a new internet provider, I had simply sent just one email.
“Next time……. Or else!“
Today, the order had been to dress up like a cheap hooker and simply walk through the mall, nothing else. He held his head high, ready to explain this most revealing outfit being a lost bet or a fundraiser or such, when a mall security guard stopped him.
“Follow me!“was all the man said.
I, in my capacity as ‘The Recruiter‘ watched online, using the mall’s system, delighted to see that the boy followed the guard without any complaint.
The boy had no idea what would happen, he just knew that resistance was futile.
The guard was a burly black man, maybe slightly overweight but otherwise in good shape. As he opened the door to the office, he followed the boy on the way inside so closely that he pushed the boy in with his body.
Much to the boy’s surprise, the man did nothing but to open his fly and get out an impressive hard-on. He apologetically pointed at a camera mounted on the ceiling: “I’m sorry, boy, I have no choice! Kneel, and suck my cock!“and the boy simply did as he was told.
I, and countless men online, watched in perverted pleasure as the two protagonists did just what we wanted them to do. The security guard seemed to forget his shyness, even qualms and took the boy’s head in his hands to start a powerful facefuck, and the boy took the black man’s dick with well trained ease.
Both were maybe not willing participants, but at least they were ready and able to perform for the audience they knew was watching.
Each of those men online knew that the guys they watched were forced to perform, and it even added to their perverse pleasure. Especially the boy, who they knew well. He was an exquisite acquisition, belonging to a respected and wealthy family. He was the rare exception to the rule. Usually the boys and men they watched while performing the most unspeakable acts against their will were in no position to fight back, just like the security officer working at the mall. This boy however, attending a prestigious school, knowing important people, posed a potential threat, so he was even hotter to watch while he helplessly got skewered by the long cock down his throat.
I, ‘The Recruiter‘, leaned back and worked my own dick. I loved watching my ‘charges‘ perform.
I chuckled as the word for the boys I forced, coerced and blackmailed to do what I wanted, crossed my mind. It was weird: I sometimes thought of them as ‘charges’, sometimes as ‘wards’, sometimes even as ‘protégés’, but in fact they were nothing but my victims, my slaves, not much more than cattle are to a farmer, livestock to use, sell, get rid off.
While the guard blew a load down the boy’s throat, I, watching closely, came as well. I watched the guard smile shyly at the sweaty young athlete, now blushing as he exited the security office and rushed down the hall and out of the mall. His slutty outfit had worked well once again, I thought, the boys self-esteem had received another hard blow, but the paying audience loved the result.
I opened a highly encrypted email channel and typed a message to report the latest success:
“Soon! He is willing to do almost anything already!“
The email was meant exclusively for one man, high up in the hierarchy, so high up he was virtually untouchable. Soon the boy would willingly serve under this man’s supervision.