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The Organisation: The Enemy Within
The men and women running the Organisation had long known about Sean Masters and his attempts to uncover the secrets of their work.
The did not only see the Organisation as a tool to make money, but also took great delight in the countless opportunities their work offered. All of the leading members of the Organisation were rich, richer than most, some even filthy rich.
All they wanted was the thrill of conquest, other companies, parties, countries.
And: people.
Seeing someone walk around and asking questions could be amusing, just as long as they did not get close enough to find out the truth and even worse talk about it.
Sean Masters had been such a man, dangerously near the inner circle.
His way so high up, or perhaps, so deep down into the rabbit-hole of secrets that it changed him. It was not only black and white any longer, good or bad, gay or straight, no, after months of investigating, he knew he had had no idea about reality, even his own.
Everything began to get blurred when he found out that Cousin Callum was no epitome of heterosexuality, no standard that defined male strength, he in fact took dick, and he loved it.
Sean had watched countless hours of videos showing Callum, in various situations, alone or in groups, having hard steamy gay sex, and evidently loving it, most of the times. Sean breathlessly watched how big his cousin’s cock was and how far he could shoot his loads.
He had watched several feature films, and he soon found out someone with the right connections and a fat bank balance could easily buy them online.
The Organisation was not in the least bothered by Sean Masters rather clumsy attempts to uncover what they were doing. In fact, after having already trained one Masters-boy, they could easily do the same with another.
It was fun to watch the uptight, religious, cornfed farm-boy Sean watch a fuckfilm starring Callum, taking thick cocks.
As usual the Organisation did nothing without a reason.
Sean should be shocked to the core, with the effect the young man would either end his attempts to write his big story, or fall for the same bait they had tempted other young men with, give in and work for them.
Sean’s trap had been set carefully, set by the man who played the whistleblower. Soon Sean sat breathlessly in a seedy hotel room, watching a video on his laptop, a video that even had a commentary, making sure everybody would understand what was happening in the unbelievable scenes.
Sean had no idea his laptop had been hacked and his room had been wired with several high definition cameras, so he didn’t hold back in showing his emotions while he watched the video.
The screen showed a few people Sean didn’t recognise, combined with some shady, rather well-known figures. One of the faces Sean immediately recognised was Mr. John Meyers, Callum’s boss at ‘The Hollywood Agency’.
The screen showed unbelievable scenes. Sean witnessed the ways his cousin Callum had been brainwashed into being the submissive gay bottom he had turned into.
Sean listened to Meyers, laying out his plans for Callum, and he was utterly surprised by the calculated cruelty of their design. It was obvious that there was something very personal animating Meyers' treatment of his newest model.
At the time, Sean still held a grudge because of the way Callum had simply vanished from home without a single word. At the beginning of he had a hard time to suppress any misgivings he might have had by telling himself that it was no more than Callum deserved.
However, watching the screen show a conversation between John Meyers and his son Troy, hearing Troy brag about the way he and his Father had abused Callum, had made his skin crawl.
Sean now viewed Meyers' son as a warning of as to how twisted a person could become if he gave unfettered free-rein to his impulses. The whistleblower had told him almost every model would been banged frequently by Troy over the years. Everyone knew that Troy fucked another guy like he was just a plaything – a mere conduit for getting off, something to be used for his pleasure and then discarded.
Sean’s eyes were glued to the screen as he watched his Cousin in a sling, evidently drugged or brainwashed, looking to be passively awaiting his doom. Against all the odds, Sean felt his own dick rise, his own truly heterosexual dick, when someone positioned himself in between Callum's out-stretched legs. Callum looked up, glassy-eyed, not even focusing on the face of the boy about to fuck him.
Instead, in a flat monotone, like some mindless automaton uncomprehendingly repeating programmed lines, he begged the guy to fuck him.
"Please fuck me, Sir. Fuck my pussy," he pleaded, probably not even knowing what he said.
Something clicked in Sean’s head. His hand reached for his cock, and while jerking and watching the screen, he decided that he was going to fuck Callum – and fuck him hard. He really didn't have much choice in the matter, having no idea that the Organisation had, some time ago, started the process to drug him, feed him the informations necessary, and brainwash him, slowly braking his old ways and establishing new ones.
In the end, his faceless handler knew, he would fuck Callum, and he was going to keep reminding him that the boy beneath him was not a person – he was just a toy, an asshole to use and abuse.
Sean watched the screen, watched as man after man fucked Callum, his cousin, making him scream and grunt, moan and plead. Callum did not plead for mercy, he plead for more dick, more cum, harder fucks.
Callum was just an object. A thing.
Fortified by this resolve, almost in a trance, Sean began jerking his big cock, while picturing himself fucking Callum’s tight ass, in and out of the boy's well greased up hole.
In no time at all, Callum began responding with the squeals and moans that were the clear signs of a boy getting his pussy reamed out good.
This was all it took to override any second thoughts may have had. It did not take long for Sean to shoot his first load, and right after he came, the guy on screen did the same, evidently, covering Callum’s six-pack abs with a white shower of hot cum.
Sean moaned, his eyes still fixated on the screen, while the next boy pushed his dick deep into the still surprisingly tight hole of the jock in the sling. The new boy on screen was a very good looking Asian, who mounted up and took Callum for a long, hard ride. By the time he finished, Sean had watched breathlessly, drinking two cans of a juice the hotel provided, feeling fresh and able to go the whole night. While Callum was fucked several times, Sean came three times, leaving his cock raw and red. While the screen showed that two more hot loads of man cream leaked out of Callum’s battered man-pussy, Sean felt asleep, exhausted.
The men watching the screens knew Sean Master was on the way to be a good soldier in their army of well-trained, useful toys and fuckslaves.
He would serve his boss well from now on, the man who owned Sean’s newspaper, the man who had called the Organisation in the first place.