The Phantom Photobooths (ncmc wiki 2007-02-28)

By One Ring and NCMC readers published February 27, 2007
Summary
Photobooths are really hypno traps for creating slave boys...
NOTE: This is a copyrighted group-created derivative work based on an earlier story. The opinions, intent and morals expressed in this new work are not necessarily those of the original author and they can in no way be held responsible for this new derivative.

Thanks to all the contributors who transformed the original story into this mini-epic. Over 100 edits and counting... ;)



When the barker on the midway had given Tim a token for a free set of photos at the photo booth he had accepted them without a second thought. Afterall, they were free and it was not like he had anything much to do that afternoon anyway. So Tim sat down in the booth and pulled the curtain closed. He had thought it was a bit odd that the booth had curtains on both sides. It was up against the side of one of the carnival tents so therefore it was pointless. Not only that but the air seemed a little thick in such an enclosed space ... ah, what the hell, he thought and decided to just ignore it and followed the instructions on the monitor.

After a moment, he realized that the air wasn't that bad. In fact it was quite relaxing as he looked at his choices on the screen. He was feeling really good as he selected the super athlete background, complete with pom-poms wielding blond bimbo cheerleaders on the sidelines, and prepared to take his photo. But to his surprise as he dropped the token in the slot the background image suddenly switched to an all-new set of x-rated scene selections with names like Roman Galley Slave, Egyptian Pyramid Slave, Leather Dog Slave, and Surprise Slave. Tim shook his head at the obscene images before him.

After a moment's distaste, he found himself so captivated by the screen that he didn't even notice the way the monitor began rhythmically flickering. All the slaves in the photos were bare-chested, and he was feeling so relaxed he suddenly and irrationally felt he should follow suit and began unbuttoning his shirt. For a moment he wondered what he was doing before reminding himself that Hey, it was free so why not follow the instructions? He was on the rowing crew at college so he decided to pick the Roman galley slave, and dreamily he reached out and touched his selection on the screen. He was almost too relaxed to be surprised when a panel opened beneath the monitor and with a clank a drawer popped out containing a heavy metal collar and shackles.

"Props? This can't be for real!" he thought as he leaned forward to check out the galley slave gear. He felt suddenly dizzy as his face passed in front of the air vent just above the dispenser. He sat up with his eyes unfocused slightly and he felt momentarily disoriented as he looked down at what his hands were holding. Along with the metal collar and shackles he noticed that there was also a pair of leather sandals and what looked like a small leather loincloth. What the hell??? Was he expected to put on bondage gear for the photo? He realized that the loincloth was little more than two pieces of leather and a piece of string! A vision suddenly flashed in his head of how obscene he would look with just that on. It would expose practically all of his athletic young body to view. Hell, that little leather square of a loincloth probably wouldn't even cover all of his tackle! Plus, he would look utterly ridiculous dressed up like that! He licked his lips and looked at them more closely.

The air vent suddenly rattled as extra blasts of air shot into the booth. The screen began to pulse with a series of extremely close flickers that seemed to come in unison with each air-blast. Tim's nostrils distended slightly as he inadvertently breathed in some of the blasts, and his pupils dilated to the flicker-sequence. His whole attitude towards the loincloth and sandals seem to shift. What did it matter if they would look obscene and ridiculous? Who would ever see them? Well maybe it would be good to show off pics of his body like that to his girlfriend---?

No! He thought, as the lightshow seemed to quicken before his eyes. He shook his head a little in bemusement and tried to regain his train of thought, No! The photos would be great to show to his best friend Dave . . .!

But that wasn't right. Why would he want to show these pictures to Dave? Even as he thought this, Tim found himself setting the shackles and collar on the bench to his right and continuing to strip, carefully folding his clothes and laying them in the drawer. Not even noticing as it slowly disappeared back into the wall. All the time his eyes did not break contact with the now obviously strobing screen. As he redressed Tim did not even notice the drool now running down his chin. He thought to himself that it was right for him to look this way, it was right for him to dress as a slave. And somehow he knew it was right that he must show his best friend what he really was. He knew it would humiliate him if his buddy passed around the photos to all his friends and that they would surely snigger at them, and even mock him for being such a worthless slave ... yet even as Tim found that his cheeks started to burn red in fear of the coming embarrassment he felt his cock began to harden slightly beneath his skimpy loin cloth.

For some reason, he kept thinking of his friend Dave. He felt like he really wanted his rower friend to see him like this... weak ... broken ... submissive and in his shackles. Oh God it would be so humiliating ... and yet, he thought, even as a little thrill raced up his neck. Yes Dave ... I want him ... staring at me ... laughing at me....

To be embarrassed like that was all a slave deserved. Maybe all his friends should see him like that. Maybe it was right for him to be humiliated like that. Fuck yeah! Tim realized. That so needed to happen. He needed to take these pictures, and show Dave, and everyone, what he was and let them laugh at him. Hell, maybe when his friends were passing them around looking at him looking so weak and pitiful in that skimpy slave outfit they might even start to get turned on...! Wait a second! he thought as he felt his cock twitch at the idea. Why the fuck was he thinking that? He was straight, wasn't he? Why on Earth would he want his straight friends to start popping boners looking at photos of him as a slave??? ... Yet even as he thought this, Tim started visualizing what those photos would look like, what he would really look like. He would look kind of hot, he realized. No longer a handsome college boy! He would look like a real slave. A slave who had to obey every order they gave whether he wanted to or not. Serve their every wish, their every desire without a thought... without a protest... he tried to resist, even as a thrill made it hard to breath. Seeing him like that knowing what he truly had become. It was bound to give people ... ideas! Even normally straight college boys like his friends.

Tim shut his eyes tight while biting his lip as he suppressed an involuntary moan as he saw in his mind's eye an image of himself dressed as the galley slave on his hands and knees in the middle of the common room. With not only his buddies but the entire fraternity standing around his barely covered form, and the looks in their eyes, pity, disgust and yes... lust was impossible to miss. "Oh God Yes!" he groaned as his hands reach under his skimpy loin cloth, feeling his cock harden at the thought of them looking down at him that way. He could hear their laughter in his head; hear their jibes and jokes. Smell their beer on their breath as they spit in his face and called him a filthy slave ... a dog ... a dog in heat. And maybe just maybe Dave would smirk at the others, and begin to unbuckle his jeans ... and the rest would spur him on ... Tim stuck his tongue slightly out the corner of his mouth and ran it slowly over his lips as his free hand reached behind him finding its way between his cheeks as he imagined his best friend being just the first of many and how he would have no choice; want no choice ... but to serve them.

As he stood mesmerized and hard by the image running through his head, the hypnotic gas and flickering lights continued to reprogram his addled mind for his new role as a submissive slave boy. The thought that soon he would be showing off his body to other guys and that his body would turn them on, and it made him feel proud. To think that something as worthless as he was would turn them on so much that some of them would want to buy him as their slave was incredibly hot to him now. As he stroked his hardening cock he could no longer remember a time when he had not wanted ... no ... *needed* to be owned and used by a Master. His cock throbbed in anticipation. The boner under the rough leather was a bit uncomfortable, but it was better than he deserved. Without a Master he was nothing. But soon his dream of being a Master's slaveboy would come true!



Outside on the midway, the barker Roger Clark continued to hand out carnival flyers when he spotted yet another loner walking by himself and sipping a soda. He smiled as He made his way to intercept his prey.

"Hello, young man, waiting for your girlfriend?" Roger asked. "We have an excellent photo booth to capture your memories here at our carnival. It's only $5.00 for 4 photos, and you can choose your own background!"

"No, no girlfriend. Just here by myself, so I'll pass on the photos. But thanks, anyway," Jack said shaking his head and using his free hand to wave goodbye.

But Roger Clark was not that easily put off. "Ah, well, tell you what, I'll give you a token for a free photo, for a souvenir for yourself. The photo booths are right over there, but the token is only good today. Maybe if you like it you'll come back and get more with your buddies."

"Buddies, yeah right... about a thousand miles from here maybe?" Jack shook his head, "I just moved here to go to college." He turned to walk away.

Roger smiled to himself as he realized that things were looking better and better. "Ah? Well, you get four photos, so you can mail them to your buds back home. Here, catch" he said tossing Jack the token.

"Sure, what the hell!" Jack said snatching it out of the air and headed toward the booths. Just as another young man walked in to the carnival his eyes following Jack's retreating form. With a surprised look on his face he headed towards Roger.



Jack rolled his eyes as he noticed the sandaled feet visible under the curtain in the first booth, and heard unmistakable moans. "Sick bastard!" he thought as he headed to the vacant second booth.

As he opened the curtain and entered, Jack sneezed. He pulled the drape shut. He noticed that the air had strange ozone-like scent and suddenly feeling light-headed sat down on the bench and rested his head between his legs.

"That's weird," Jack thought as his head cleared a little and he sat up. He looked at the monitor to make his background selection. He scrolled down the list not thinking much of his choices till he spotted one whiz by that caught his attention and scrolled back to it. "Yea that's the one," he thought with a smile as he settled on the Aladdin story.

A year or two ago Jack had gotten a scholarship to a prep school that his folks could never have afforded. That had been unlike one of his housemates who had been a real Arabian prince. Even though he would never have admitted Jack always secretly envied the little fucker for the life he must lead. Yeah, it would be fun to at least look like an Arab prince! He was going to have his photo taken with the magic lamp, then the genie, on a flying carpet, and on a throne with beautiful scantily clad Harem girls kneeling at his feet. "You lucky bastard," he thought as he dropped the token in the slot.

The screen flickered and went black. Then it came back on with an x-rated slave photo op. HAREM BOY was one choice. SLAVE OF THE LAMP was the second choice. AMERICAN SOLDIER TURNED ARAB SLAVE was the third. SURPRISE was the fourth.

At first Jack was disgusted with the choices, but another gust of sweet smelling air assaulted his senses once again and for some reason he found himself selecting the Harem Boy scenario. Jack laughed, it was free, so what harm was there? His thoughts returned to the student prince with a snigger. Although no one ever said anything everyone knew that it was well known that if the little prince did have himself a harem back home it would very likely be filled with boy-toys just like the one on the screen. The young Arab prince would probably have creamed himself if he ever got to see a jock like Jack dressed like his personnel Harem Boy. The image of the prince lying naked on his bed with his hand rapped around his cock jerking off holding one of the pictures of him dressed like one of the boy on the screen made Jack giggle. Shit...not that he wanted the prince or any guy get hot for him he quickly told himself, shaking his head trying to dislodge the image as he began feeling kind of light-headed yet again.

A panel opened below the flickering monitor and Jack was glad of the distraction. Yet he was surprised, as he had bent in front of the vent to pick up what was inside. The strong ozone smell he had noticed earlier was stronger down there, and really assaulted his nostrils. The item in the panel was a diaphanous silk square with a gold chain. He staggered slightly as he held it up for inspection looking at before he put it up to his mouth like a veil. But as he looked at the image on the screen of the other Harem Boy he realized that it wasn't a veil at all, but a real flimsy loincloth. Blushing, he took the slender harem boy's underwear costume away from his face. There was no way in hell he was going to wear something like that he thought as he moved it between his fingers. I wonder how it would even fit on a guy as buff and well hung as me, he thought. Again the air filled with the now familiar yet stronger scent and again Jack found it hard to think.

A little voice inside him told him he wanted to find out how it would look on him and that there was only one way to do that. Without a second thought Jack removed the rest of the items from the drawer. He quickly stripped naked, and deposited his own clothing in their place.

But how was he supposed to secure in place what he now knew was obviously a cock-veil? He wondered, as he stood there naked holding the flimsy cloth between his fingers, exactly what to do. As if anticipating his question the screen filled with a diagram. He gazed intently at the flickering monitor. It clearly showed a man's naked ass and the best way to put on the cock veil. There was an odd metal plug at one end of the chain and ring at the other end. "What the hell?" Jack gasped as he realized that the plug fit through the ring and then both ring and plug needed to be shoved up his ass. Sure he was up for a laugh but there was no way he was shoving a plug up his ass!

Yet as the screen flickered and the air filled with scent Jack's mind came back to the idea of looking just like the Harem Boys on the screen. And after all, he reasoned, he would only have to wear it for as long as it would take for him to have the photos taken. Yet still the thought that it might be uncomfortable made him hesitant. Another blast of gas and his hesitation seemed to vanish as he watched the man on the flickering screen fasten the veil firmly into place with a big smile on his face, even as the screen flickered faster Jack could see that the man was obviously not only enjoying wearing the thing up his but looked dam sexy doing it and with every deep breath he felt reassured that he would thoroughly enjoy wearing it and also look sexy.

So without another thought he slipped the ring over the plug, and bent over slightly. With a grunt he inserted the plug into his asshole and with his mind on autopilot, pushed it hard against his virgin ring. Once it was deeply imbedded Jack stared at the monitor and smiled. It felt so good wearing the cock veil, he thought, so good feeling the plug deeply inside. So good in fact his cock began dripped with excitement.

An image of himself in the skimpy costume appeared on the screen, showing him what photo was about to be taken. Jack looked at it - even though he felt great, he realized the photo would be really compromising. "Um, maybe I better not get my photo taken ... " he thought to himself. "I mean, look at this veil ... it's see-through ... I'm basically naked. And with my cock... my cock hard and dripping like...like this... what the hell was I thinking???"

Jack looked down at his naked body, covered in the barest of materials. "I can't get my photo taken like this!!!" he said out loud. As if in answer to his protests a strong blast of gas came from all the vents in the booth and the screen flickered more rapidly.

Jack's concern about the costume suddenly seemed to evaporate, and Jack rationalized the image to himself as he looked at the screen. He did look kind of sexy dressed as a harem boy, so the photos would be kind of sexy too. He could maybe show them to girls he liked ... he shook his head as the flickering on the screen increased as the thought of girls seemed to fade away. No, not girls...why would he want to show them to girls... maybe he could show them to his friends. All my friends would love to see photos of me in a harem wouldn't they, joining in an orgy... serving my Master. What the fuck??? Jack thought shaking his head as he tried to clear the image from his mind, why in God's name would I want my buds to see me getting fucked by other slave boys?

Another blast of gas and more flickering ... and Jack felt his mind feel fuzzy once again. Was he imagining the image on the screen had changed to one where his friends were now the other slave boys? And why was his Arab schoolmate lording over them??? The image made him hard as he thought of showing them the photos, showing them how happy he was to be like this. And how they too would want to be harem boys just like him ... and then ... and ... then!

But to be a true HAREM BOY Jack realized as images of Arab men in various stages of undress paraded across the monitor screen he would need a Master. Jack knew that he desperately wanted to be the submissive white slave boy of a Masterful Arab prince or sheik. The prospect of being bought and deemed worthy enough to serve a Master's Arab cock made him drool.

He was barely even aware of it when the side of the tent had opened, and a burly man had reached in and fastened a leash to the gold collar around his neck. Vaguely Jack remembered putting the collar around his neck and the matching gold armbands and ankle-bands around his limbs. "Let's find you a Master shall we?" the man said with a laugh as he led Jack away. Jack's cock rose with joy lifting the pink diaphanous veil as he was led to his new cage to await the impending auction were he would find his Master.




Off-duty motorcycle patrolman Chance Gallagher had positioned himself on the far side of the midway across from the haunted house, and stood pretending to ogle the girls as they walked by. Dressed in t-shirt and jeans his boyish face made it easy for him to look younger than his twenty-one years. But as sexy as the girls were that was not why he was there. Chance had more important things on his mind. He was in fact staking out the midway attractions. He just knew that the carnival was somehow connected to the disappearances of a couple of the young students from the college in town but couldn't prove it. And without proof no one was going to believe him. Over the last few evenings after his shift he had watched most of the attractions and come up empty. And tonight was his last chance. Tomorrow the carnival was leaving and taking with it any chance he had of breaking the case, and earning a gold detective's shield.

As a young fit and, he had to admit, good looking kid walked passed him. Chance realized he would have fit the profile no problem, if he was right and something was really happening to good-looking guys here then that kid could be next. Chance followed the young man as he wound his way round the midway for ten minuets or so before the barker had stopped him. Chance was too far away to hear what they were saying but saw the man handing the kid something, and then the kid went into one of the photo-booths. A few minutes later as Chance waited for his bait to come out another good looking kid who would have fit the profile got into conversation with the barker who, after some talk, had steered him to a photo booth. That's just great Chase thought as he watched the second kid close the curtains. Now I have two potential victims and can only follow one. It was a dilemma but Chance decided to stick to his first choice.

But after about 10 minutes or so, the barker had posted out-of-order signs on each booth. That wasn't right, Gallagher realized. He hadn't taken his eyes of those booths since the second guy had gone in. And he sure as hell would have seen if anybody had exited. Chance set down his three-quarters eaten corn dog on a stick on the oil drum he'd been leaning against, and watched as the barker had ducked behind the tent. Making sure he wasn't been watched, Chance headed in to check out the inside of those photo-booths.




As patrolman Gallagher had watched the photo-booths, he had completely failed to notice men wearing a distinctive gold ring that would casually wander into the carnival were the barker would spot them and appear to innocently hand them a flyer. Or that after that brief exchange each man would read it quickly before heading behind a tent with a closed sign next to the photo booths. But Roger was well aware of every guest's arrival and when all were present Roger placed an OUT OF SERVICE sign on each booth before he too disappeared inside. Roger smiled at the odd assortment of individuals who were gathering for the evening's main events. And not just the ones in cages, in stocks, on platforms, and suspended from the tent's supports. Roger's potential buyers, who he watched eyeing his catch of freshly enslaved young men, were some of the world's leaders of industry and politics - men in the public eye for whom gay lovers were out of the question and rent boys are far too risky - but men who could easily afford to buy the discreet submissive cock happy sex-slaves he provided.

Salim al Tariq didn't look much like one of those men and so when Roger had first spotted what he now knew was an Arab prince, wearing his soccer outfit having come straight from practice at an exclusive Ivy League college, he had in fact considered him as another possible convert. That was until he spotted him wearing the identification ring he had sent to clients. At first he had thought there had been some mistake. But the young Prince had explained that his uncle back home had sent him the invitation to tonight's auction and asked him to come in his place to pick up something special, Roger had smiled knowingly and passed him the flier. Sal had mostly grown up in the United States, and was in no real hurry to return home. He liked it here! Where being an Arab prince could open many doors. Things worked differently back home where there he would have been just one of many princes living under the stifling gaze of his government.

Not only that but going home would mean having to live in the palace with his dominant and controlling uncle who disapproved of his free and easy lifestyle. Salim's Uncle didn't hold with new ways and new ideas and this had been the cause of many fights between the two since Salim's parents who had been more liberal had died some years before. His uncle had ordered him to return home then but Salim had insisted on completing his studies here. In fact the only thing the two had in common was their sexual orientation and that in part was why he was here. His uncle had sent him a letter containing the invitation, ring and a note explaining where to go and what to do. Asking him to pick up an order for him. His payment for doing him this service was to put on his account his choice of anyone that caught his eye. Salim was disgusted at the thought of owning a slave ... servants sure, but he was loved liberty and freedom ... he never wanted to go back to the old ways. Still, there was no harm in having a look he decided as he agreed to his Uncle's request. Besides, it seemed to best to keep the old man onside by doing his simple tasks.

As he rubbed his chin Salim examined the white galley slave boy whose oil covered form glistened, showing off his toned body to great effect, as he intently worked the oars of a rowing machine in time with a tape recording of a drum. He could easily imagine the beautiful boy rowing him around the harbour back home in a modified gondola. Still, a galley slave really didn't seem that suited to a life here in the states.

So with some regret he turned to the next display. Just as two burly men lead a baby faced young biker boy on to the platform. It was easy to see the boy had a great body as he was wearing only a leather jacket, boots and crotchless chaps leaving all of his impressive equipment on show as they hung him from a chain with a set of handcuffs. The man caught Salim's eye amd he begged to be whipped. The guy was hot Sal had to admit but in truth he wasn't really into sadism and besides he figured that even if he were the rush would be short lived with a slave that wanted to be whipped, no, sadism was more his uncle's style and as he walked off he had wondered if this may be the item his uncle had sent him to collect.

Sal moved on to the next display, which turned out to be a very well endowed young black pony-boy whose ebony skin made it easy to see the hunk had spent most of his time working out. And even the bit in its mouth couldn't hide his beautiful features, framed as they were by a long black mane of flowing black hair with an equally long flowing tail attached to a butt plug in his ass. Sal felt a twinge in his shorts as he watched the stallion's long thick uncut cock swing from side to side as he cantered around his enclosure and smiled as he imagined riding this fine beast into the sunset.

He would have stood there all day watching the stud had he not heard the tinny recording of snake-charmer flute playing from the next display. He snorted as he listened to it "Yea right" he thought as he moved towards the sound. Let me guess, the sultan's HAREM. Sal found the whole tableau quite condescending. No wonder the rest of the world think of us as backward, he thought as he looked in on the display. As he expected it turned out to be a caged harem boy dancing.

Salim was just about to walk away in disgust when the boy dancing turned him around and Sal saw the face that was attached to the body that was shaking his barely covered cock. Shit!! He looked just like one of Sal's old prep school dorm mates! But that was imposable! Wasn't it? This was the guy he had spotted earlier. Could this really be Jack? Sal asked himself as he watched the vision gyrate before him wearing little more than a small semi-transparent loincloth. No! It's impossible he told himself. It couldn't be Jack; it just couldn't ... Sal's denial melted away when he acknowledged the raging hard-on he had developed. No matter how unlikely it was, his cock was telling him what his head could not accept. The wet dream in front of him was indeed Jack. And what's more he looked even hotter as he wiggled his butt-plugged ass than he ever had in Sal's dreams back in prep school. Salim didn't consider him self a bad guy so he found himself in a bit of a dilemma. After all Jack had been a friend... well not really a friend as such but someone he knew. And a small part of Sal realized he should probably do something to save him.

Unfortunately for Jack the greater part of Sal was thinking of all the nights he had beaten off thinking of Jack just this way. After all, Sal reasoned, in a way Jack was both unlucky and lucky at the same time, unlucky enough to be transformed into a mindless slave but lucky that Sal was the one that intended to buy him. So in a way Jack's bad luck might turn out to be his good fortune as a small part of Sal still considered setting him free.

But that small thought evaporated quickly as the old part of Jack that still existed inside the new horny Harem Boy recognized the boy staring up at him and even though mere hours before the thought of his old classmate watching him dancing dressed like that would have been humiliating he now was filled with desire. Salim al Tariq may have been a fag and a former classmate but his was also a true Arab prince just liked the one he hoped would buy him as a slave.

Jack's cock hardened as the thought of being permitted to kneel before his friend, his Prince, his Master and being allowed to pleasure him with his mouth ... his ass ... with his entire body! But what if his prince did not want him? Jack thought fearing that the boy prince would not think him worthy enough to serve his wonderful cock. What if he walked away and bought one of the other slaves? Thinking the prince might not see how sexy and desirable a slave he could be Jack decided to show him.

Sal's mouth inadvertently gaped momentarily when he saw Jack turn and bending display his hot bare butt plugged ass as he looked back over his shoulder and licked his lips with a sultry smile as using one hand he displayed his rockhard cock as with the other he began to fingering himself. All the time he continued to gyrate like a professional dancer.

My, my! Sal thought, as he felt the blood rush to his own cock, all thoughts of his black stallion vanishing as Jack began humping his own hand. By all the prophets! Who knew such a straight assed boy like Jack could be turned into such a hot sexy little slut!

Sal's mind slipped back to the locker room at the prep school. Jack's friends Kevin, Will, Warren and Arthur had been the other four jocks that made up the swim team. How many times had Salim sat in the stands and watched them prancing around in the pool in their skimpy Speedo's, all the while imagining what it would be like to see them naked? Standing there watching Jack displaying himself for his pleasure made the young prince see how innocent those desires had been. How long had it taken for that Clark guy to twist Jack's homophobic jock mind into that very hot and horny little dancing harem slut? Salim wondered. If it really had been Jack he had seen on the midway earlier the answer was not long at all. As he thought of his uncle's harem back home with all its willing sex slaves, Sal wondered what it would be like to have a harem of his own. Would it be possible he wondered to special order the other four-team members? And if so how much would it cost to make them his personal male harem slaves?

Sal's breath caught as he fantasized himself reclining on a divan watching his four former classmates dancing for him as they waited their turn as Jack eagerly used his sexy mouth to service his every need and desire.

Across the tent, Roger Clark was chatting with a Southeast Asian general about his desire to force overweight slaves to get into shape. Roger didn't say it but thought the general was a chubby-chaser. He'd have to add a few fat boys next time he put out his photo-booths. Glancing across the prospective buyers and product, Clark caught sight of the young prince staring at his latest catch and smiled. Even for a distance it was clear from the tent in his shorts that he had found something he liked. Roger decided it was the perfect time to close a sale.

"Excuse me, general," he said his eyes never leaving the young Prince. "I'll make sure we include some heftier lads in our next auction, right now I have to deal with a new client," Clark said bowing and backing away from the general and hurriedly made his way across the throng of People one or two of whom kept stopping him to commend on the quality of his stock, or to ask questions. Of course he was polite with his answers, but kept them as short as possible as he wished to reel in the young prince before he lost interest and wiggled of the hook.

"Your highness has found something to his liking?" Clark asked slightly out of breath even as the answer was clear by the small wet patch that had appeared on the crotch of the prince's shorts. Salim, who was total oblivious to the fact, had to stop himself from nodding. "It is interesting yes, but I'm not sure it's what I am looking for! Harem slave boys are not usually my thing," he said trying to control the trembling in his voice every time Jack gyrated his hot ass. True he was a crown Prince but he would not get his inheritance till his 21st birthday. So while he did his business major he received only a small allowance each month and knew any overt interest in Jack would surely punch up the price. Not that that was a problem, as his uncle would be paying. But if he wanted this man to acquire the rest of his gay harem at a reasonable price he could not look too eager. Even with the allowance of a prince he would be hard pressed to afford four willing slaves.

Roger Clark smiled at the young man's amateur attempt to look uninterested but he had been in the business far too long to be fooled by it. "But perhaps if this one came as part of a set?" Salim said trying to sound nonchalant about his request. Clark smiled as he watched the boy try to hide his lust for the blond slave.

"I presume your highness has an idea of those who would complete the set and where they could be found?" Roger asked and smiled as the young prince told him all he needed to know. "But finding the four young men you request would take time your highness, by which time this young man would be sold!"

As he watched the young princess's face drop he could see the boy was completely hooked. All that remained was for him to reel him in and Roger knew just the way to do it. "A hard choice indeed highness" he whispered bring his mouth closer so only the prince could hear. "Although it is normally against the policy of the management I think perhaps being that this is your first visit with us we could allow your highness to ... shall we say ... take a short test drive of this model, to see if it is suitable? And while you do that, I could check the internet for your other selections."

Salim tried to swallow before answering but his voice was still higher than he would have wished when he agreed. Clark removed a set of keys from his pocket and opened up the gate of Jack's cage. Salim couldn't be sure but he thought he seen a smile cross Jack's face as the docile slave was led out by his gold chain and handed it to him.

Surely he didn't expect me to try him out here? Salim looked around the crowded tent. But there was no need to worry, Roger lead them both to a set of steps at the far end of the tent. It led to a metal door. "I do apologize for the size of the room, your highness," Clark said with a smile. "But as I said we don't normally allow use of the merchandise before purchase"

Salim looked into the room, it was in some sort of small trailer. Clark had been right, it was small, but he didn't care! All he cared about was what was attached to the other end of the thin gold chain he held in his hand and the others that would soon be his. But for now Jack alone would have to be the one to ease the unbearable burning in his crotch. The door had hardly closed behind the retreating Mr. Clark before Salim had ordered the very willing Jack onto his hands and knees as he let his shorts drop to his ankles letting free his rock hard cock. Yet as he looked down at his former housemate as the flickering light seem to dance across his body the full implications of what he was doing struck home. And the guilt of what he was doing hit home.

For all his lofty ideals, it had taken only the sight of his former unrequited love, naked and buff, to make him sell out. Salim was disgusted with himself. He felt like he had betrayed himself. He looked down at Jack, it was weird, even though he knew it was wrong, he felt his lust growing again. Salim frowned, torn by indecision.

If he were to do this to Jack he would be just like his uncle he thought. Just like his uncle... just like his uncle, just... like... his... uncle... and with each breath he drew he felt light-headed and found it harder to fight the burning desire inside to be...to be... to ...be... like ... the screen flickered annoyingly, and he found it so hard to breathe. And then he was kneeling between Jack's legs and in one movement he removed the slave's butt plug and replaced it with something that had longed to be there for the longest time. As he felt himself take Jack's cherry Salim felt so happy and relaxed that he didn't care about anything any more! Not his guilt... Thrust... not his Uncle...Thrust... not even... Thrust... about the smelly ... Thrust... stuffy room ... Thrust... with its faulty light...Thrust... that was rapidly filling ... Thrust... with the sweet... Thrust... smell of sweat and sex...Thrust.... Thrust.... Thrust... Only pleasure ... Thrust... mattered he thought... Thrust... as he could hold back no more as with a last Thrust he exploded with a scream of joy.



Roger stood to one side of the tent as he watched each slave be led up onto the auction block and as usual the bidding was all he could of hoped for, even the Asian general had found something to whet his appetite. And once again he marveled at how stock that had taken him many days to acquire had been sold in mere minutes. Ah well, he thought as he watched the computer screen show his Swiss bank account increase by a sizeable amount. It made him smiled.

Less than an hour had passed since the first guest had arrived yet in minutes after the auction it was all but empty. Roger's own fleet of dark windowed cars taking his lucky buyers and their new toys to their destination. It was the little touches like that that kept them coming back, Roger thought as he flipped open his phone and walked to the back of the tent.

As he walked he heard only one ring before the phone was answered. "Yes, I wish to speak to your Master" he said "yes the name is Roger Clark ...... yes he will know what it is concerning!" As the phone went quiet for a few moments Roger used the time to light a cigar " Good morning, your highness, sorry for the early hour. But you did say to call as soon.... thank you sir you're too kind.... Yes, Yes he arrived safe and sound sir ...Yes I received your e-mail some days ago...yes ...of course sir ...its just that your request was ...yes sir I did say we could fulfill your special order Sir... Yes sir... it's just as you instructed although you understand of course that what you asked for was a little harder than the standard so the price.... ...yes sir.... Yes the young prince did find something he liked...in fact... yes sir... he did ask for something extra ...No sir, he asked before that...four more subjects sir...yes I'm sure I can fill the order sir but ... as you say sir it will be done... I will of course need to find and reprogram them ... yes sir I'll add the extra to your bill ...Thank you sir. I always like to do my best for my more honored clients," he said with a laugh as he opened a panel at the side of the door and pressed some buttons. "Yes sir of course ...if you would just have one of your slaves log on to my encrypted web cam broadcast...yes sir that's the one" Clark said opening the door.

He was glad to see the flickering light was off and the extractor fan was almost finished recycling the air. One of his crew had once made the mistake of forgetting to punch in the code before entering the room. He had been a useful worker and it had been a shame to lose him but on the up side he had fetched a good price at least so it wasn't a complete loss. Even without the light he could see the 42-in plasma screen that had dropped from the ceiling soon after the door had been closed and Roger smiled at the sight before him as he switched on the lights.

"Yes sir the young blond slave was the prince's choice... a fine specimen as you say." Roger said looking at the two boys kneeling. "Yes sir of course... turn and face your new Master slaves," he said his words clearly a command. As the two-turned Roger noticed the tear stained cheeks of his latest convert. Salim must have guessed what was happening near the end, Roger thought but like a fly caught in a spider's web, the more he had struggled the more entrapped his mind became. Well all his worries were behind him now. "Thank you sir it's always nice to have ones work appreciated...No sir ...the blond slave is just the standard model sir...no sir the prince is just in the standard mode right now Sir... the basic programming you wanted is in place ... he's completely lost any liberal ideas he had ... but at the end we put him into basic slave mode for transport ... yes, it's OK, when you reactivate him he'll be the regal prince you always wanted ... Why yes sir I believe your nephew did have the pleasure... yes sir it would as you say...only be fair." Roger smiled at the sound of laughter coming down the phone before giving the command. He left the web cam running as he slowly closed the door as Salim the Harem Boy presented his willing ass to his fellow slave. As he walked away he could listen to the sound of their humping with a smile as he thought to himself that from the sound of it harem slave boys are his thing now! He laughed till the voice returned to the phone. " Yes sir...I assure you, you can safely say that in the upgraded mode he will be exactly what you requested.... Yes totally cured of his liberal free living way ....yes indeed I assure you he will be completely respectful and obedient to your wishes ...yes sir seeing his trigger will send him back into the standard mode when ever you wish to... yes sir ready to serve you like any of your other slaves in EVERY way...for as long as you desire sir...No sir his highness will have no memory of any time spent as your slave Sir... Indeed I am sure he will make a fine ruler some day...so as to delivery there is a ship leaving for the gulf tonight that would have them there in... Yes I understand your impatience to have your young nephew ... back were he belongs. Yes sir they shall both be waiting at the airfield by the time your jet arrives, yes I will send word when the rest of your order is ready... good night your highness.

Roger closed the phone with a smile. The prince was a lucky boy. His uncle wanted an heir more than a boy toy or to be precise more than just a boy toy. It's true what they say the filthy rich really can have their cake and have it eat them.

Later that evening Roger checked the side doors to the special room in his container truck after the last of his tents had been loaded in the back. The town being close to a major college had made it quite fruitful for a time but it was time to be moving on. As he watched it pull out the gates and head on it way he walked back towards the boardwalk by the pier. Yes it was time to be moving on but first he had something to do.

The motorcycle was hard to push but yet two minutes later, Roger Clark watched the last bubbles rise from the water. Roger had spotted the young man watching the booths and guessed that as soon as he got the chance he would be foolish enough to go and check them out. He had even left a token on the floor of each one just in case. Yet he had still been shocked when the drawer containing the boys clothing had come through the wall with the badge and gun on top. But by the end of the process the young patrol cop had been as eager to tell Roger everything as he had been to make detective. Luckily he had decided to do his detecting on his own time. And that up to seeing rowing boy enter the booth hadn't given them a second thought. Roger was sure the young stud would be happier with his new life and best of all he got to stay a biker, although the throbbing and pounding he felt between his legs from now on was unlikely to be from a motorbike!!! He laughed to himself as he thought how the young man had gone from a tough motorcycle cop and aspiring detective to a pain-pig biker slaveboy in just a few minutes. The irony wasn't lost on Clark, but he did find it funny how the photo-booth and Gallagher had ended up with that particularly ironic combination. Clark patted the badge he'd stuck in his pocket earlier; it might come in handy some day.

It was all funny really! The cops usually check out the haunted house and wax works, and like the new biker boy, never giving his photo machines a second glance. He would have to find a new carnival or venue for his photo booths in a few weeks or so, but perhaps a holiday first he thought as he climbed into his DB9. The police were sure to ask questions around the carnival about their young man who'd gone missing.

Yes a holiday far away will be nice but it would have to wait for a little while at least. He thought as he drove off into the sunset, closely followed by a plain white paneled truck and his special photo booths.

As the Aston Martin reached the gates of the private airfield Roger couldn't help but stop and look down the field. Several of his limos stood parked by the small terminal. As did several Lear jets. He grinned as he thought that almost all the incriminating evidence would very soon be airborne and on its way to far flung lands. All that was left to do was find somewhere safe for his seemingly innocent photo-booths. Although Roger Clark had never been a boy scout he still always believed in being prepared. What he needed was a place where the cops would never look ... never even think to look in fact.

After driving all night they reached the gates of a very special juvenile detention centre just before sunrise.

Roger had been there many times before, and had expected to be waved right through. Unfortunately, this time he was stopped at the gate by an earnest new guard. It was Jonathan's first week, and the 18 year-old recruit was eager to show he had the right stuff.

"What's in the truck?" He asked Roger, rapping the bonnet with his baton.

Roger regarded the red-haired man with a cool gaze. The guard was incredibly solid, a man who was clearly obsessed with weight lifting. "Just some photo booths, just put the call through to the warden, will you?"

"Not before I have a look at this," said Jonathan, fixing his green eyes on Roger with a glare.

"Sure, let me help you out," said Roger, getting out of the truck and ushering Jonathan forward. Just before he opened the door, he pressed a button that set one of the booths into one of his favourite modes.

Warden Jackson sat in his office chair with his eyes closed as sweat rolling down his smiling face as a head bobbed up and down on his crotch. This is the life he thought as he felt himself come as the young stud drank it down.

"Not much has changed since I was here last I see," a voice said from the doorway causing Jackson to jump knocking the boy to the floor before trying to straighten himself up as he looked up at the man leaning on the doorjamb with his arms folded.

"What the... Clark! What the fuck do you want?" Jackson bellowed as the young boy ran from the room.

Roger smiled as he watched him go. "Not one of mine I see! Mine would have kept sucking," he said shutting the door and taking a chair.

"I told you before Clark. I don't need any more slaves now, so get out!" The fat man shouted trying to do up his zipper.

"Yes so I can see!" Roger said with a smile, "and who said anything about selling you more slaves? I'm here on business." Roger turned and walked into the outer office, "Warden, I have a surprise for you."

The warden was indeed surprised as Roger led a handsome and very naked red-haired 18-year-old back with him. "One of your guards insisted on checking out my equipment before he would let it in the gate. It seemed he checked it out fully," Clark laughed. Jonathon looked up at the men and began to squeeze his own nipples. He moaned softly. "Oh, it feels so good to play with my nipples," he said.

"As you can see, he's become quite interested in his own nipples," Roger reached over and tweaked one. Jonathan moaned like a whore, "OOHHH fuck, that feels so good. Please ... please do it some more ... I'll ... I'll do anything you want."

Jackson mouth fell open showing a mouth of brown teeth as he let his eyes roam the young man's body "He'll do anything you want," Roger said with a smile.

"You mean he just checked out the booth and now he's like this" Jackson stuttered as he ran his tongue across his lips.

"Well yes, with any type of basic programming, get them in the booth for five minute and you can say goodbye to all your juvenile delinquents and hello to a squads of obedient subservient cocksuckers, who, depending on whatever theme they select, want to do nothing more than earn the appreciation of their Cockmaster, "

Twenty minutes later the two men walked down the corridor together like old friends.

"Warden, I really want to thank you for letting me loan your facility a few of my photo-booths," Clark said as they passed two yet unmodified young guards who were watching as his men installed the booths in the corridor between the weight room and shower room, next to a Drink Vending Machine, and a Fresh Fruit Vending Machine.

"No! Thank you Miser Clark," Jackson Said checking out the guards with a new eye. "I think these photo booths will be a perfect addition to the Centre. Heh, heh," he laughed his ample belly shaking as he did.

"I'm sure they will, Warden, I am sure they will" Clark said as he led the fat man through the exit at he end of the hall. Jackson chuckled, at the thought of the former straight-laced guard and of many other slaves who would be soon sucking his cock.

"Of course as per our agreement I will cull the best of your product periodically for my auctions. Only from the ones that can be lost in the paperwork of course. Oh, and I've got a special order, so be sure that you get a few chunky boys to try out the photo booths." Roger said climbing into his car.

"Chunky boys?" Jackson asked a little surprised.

"Fatties, chubbies, lard Asses whatever you want to call them. One of my buyers enjoys forced workouts," Roger said raising his eyebrows

"Whip 'em into shape?" the warden said with a smile

"Something like that," Clark replied.

"Oh, yeah, I'll get you some fatties alright," the Warden, shouted with a wink, and a sly grin as Clark started the engine and drove away. As he drove out the gates he reminded himself that he really needed to pick up something for his well-earned holiday to the Persian Gulf, four things in fact. Four things called Kevin, Will, Warren and Arthur! After all when dropping in on old friends one should always bring gifts.

Warden Jackson watched him go with a smile as he considered who would be the first lucky boy to get his picture and free will taken.




Watching down the hall as the two guys hooked up the new machines, Bruiser Doyle wondered what they were doing setting up photo booths here. It was not as if you would want a reminder of your time spent in camp cockroach or something. Of course Bruiser wasn't the name on his file in the warden's office. The name on the file was Justin Frances Doyle. But anyone who ever called him that soon discovered why he was called Bruiser. At almost 21 years old he was the oldest inmate of the holding centre. If he had been a few months older when the cops had caught him kicking the shit out of that fucking queer, the one who he had caught checking him out, he would have ended up being charged and have gone to trial as an adult. And he knew that with his body and looks would have been spending the next six years in prison sleeping with one eye open and his ass to the wall.

But Bruiser had put enough of his extortion money aside to afford a good lawyer. And with a good suit, shave and haircut looked like a handsome clean-cut all-American boy. His lawyer had spun a tale to the jury of how his client was a poor orphaned boy all alone in the world who had been set upon by a sick pervert who tried to rape him and how he had merely being defending himself against his sick advances. The silk bastard had been so convincing that Bruiser had almost believed the story himself. He and his lawyer had been sure he would have gotten of scott-free if it wasn't for the fact that the judge was obviously as big a fag as the sick bastard he had beaten up. So instead he ended up getting six months in juvie. Bruiser had smiled as they led him from the courthouse. After all he could do six months standing on his head. The first day in he found the top con and beat him senseless so everyone would know who was in charge. Over the last four months, it was *him*, not that queer Jackson, who had been running the place. So when the workmen and the two guards had left he wandered over to see what scam the fat fucker was trying now.

Yes, he was sure as hell going to find out what the warden was up to and get his cut or else, Bruiser thought as he looked into the booth. "That's strange," he thought as he noticed that the place where the coins should go was missing - replaced instead with a simple button. "How the hell does the warden expect to make any cash from these things if there's no coin slot???" he thought looking around the booth more closely. He found nothing. Apart from the lack of coin slot the only other difference he could see was it had a flip down seat instead of the normal swivel kind and no curtain.

Bruiser flipped the seat down slipped inside and sat down and continued his search. But as hard as he looked nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That was until he decided to punch the button.

Bruiser had been very wrong in many ways. The button and seat had not been the only changes Roger Clark had fitted to his Photo Booths for their new location but they were the ones that started things rolling. As soon as Bruiser sat down and pressed the button everything seemed to happen at once. The screen came to life just as a door slid into place at lightning speed. Throwing the booth into semi darkness except for the flicker coming from the screen. Bruiser jumped up in shock. What the hell was going on he thought as he search for a door handle but found there wasn't one. He then spent another minute trying to find a gap between the door and the frame and again he failed.

He looked back at the screen to see if there was any help to be found there but as far as he could tell the damn thing was broken. All he could see on the screen were the strange colours and annoying flicker.

Bruiser sat back down and tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths. But with the door closed the air inside the booth tasted sweet and heavy. He told himself to calm down after all it wasn't as if he was some fairy who was afraid of the dark. But still he wanted to get out of the damn booth. Sure he could always bang on the door and call for help but how would that look? He had spent the last few months kicking ass and it wouldn't do to start showing weakness now. No, calling for help was out. He would just have to work it out for himself.

The flickering screen made it difficult to think. As it seemed to bore into his skull like a drill bit, it would get brighter then duller then brighter, then duller. The flickering of the screen and the sickly sweet smell of the air was starting to give him a headache. He rubbed his temples, trying to think of a way out of the damn booth before it got any hotter ... hotter. The booth was getting hotter. Oh, shit, Bruiser thought as sweat started running into his eyes. What if that was the point of the thing? What if Jackson put it here to fry anyone stupid enough to try it? Or maybe he had set it up just to get him. The bastard would have known that he would check them out as soon as he found out about them. Knew he would want to find out what they were about. Probably say he had broken out, leave his body to be found in the desert and blame it on heat stroke ... or something. The bastard was just sick enough to do it, too, he thought.

Bruiser imagined it was getting too hot to breathe; stifling...he could already feel a trickle of sweat running down his chest... how hot would it get? How hot was it now? Too damn hot to think straight.

Bruiser told himself he had to cool down if he was to get out of this mess ... have to cool down ... but ... h..h..ow??? ... cool down ... had to get out of his clothes. That was the best way to handle it.

If he took his clothes off, he'd feel cooler...he'd be able to think better if he was cooler and then he'd be able to figure out how to get out, just a little cooler and he could work it out ... just ... had to ... get his ... clothes ... off, and everything would be alright. Bruiser ripped his shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his face. He did feel a little better but it was still so damn hot, he thought as he scrambled at his zipper before pulling his jeans down around his ankles. He smiled as he felt coolness on his bare legs but it was still getting hotter, making it harder to think.

Bruiser had to get cooler, that was all that mattered. So, grabbing his shorts he pulled them down to his jeans and sat back on the chair. That was better he thought as he felt the air vents blowing air into the booth feeling cool on his skin. Yet something was wrong. His feet still felt like they were on fire. As he bent down to untie his shoes the vent beneath the monitor blew out a cool sweet smelling blast of air and he held his face in it breathing it deeply for as long as it lasted before kicking off his shoes and socks.

For some reason he picked everything up and dropped them into a drawer that he hadn't noticed before, and then sat back on to the chair, naked.

That was better. He leaned back in the seat, feeling the sweat dry on his chest and his arms and spread his legs to let the cool air on to his crotch...he didn't feel as hot anymore, but he still felt warm. He could feel warmth seeping into his body, like it was a liquid, seeping in through her skin and leaving it so...warm...idly, he let his hand rub some sweat from his chest his fingers brushing against his nipple and it felt good. So flicking his nipples he watched the monitor. Without the lights he would be in total darkness. But it would be easer to think he thought as his free hand began rubbing his cock as his nipples kept getting harder as he rubbed them letting his thumbs circle them as he felt his cock harden slowly in his other hand.

I know I could work out what I had to do if I can just cool down enough. He need to cool down ... cool ... down he told himself as he felt the small cool spot beneath his ass on the chair. He moved his buttocks from side to side feeling the welcome touch of coldness help to fight back the unrelenting heat. But as he rolled his ass from side to side the spot became a little larger. The spot that had started out the size of a penny now felt more like that of silver dollar. Maybe if I move my ass on it more it might grow big enough to cool him down so he could think ...think about ...what he had to do.

Bruiser slowly moved his naked ass across the cool spot that somehow seemed to not only be larger now but also slightly risen. And as his cheeks past over it he could feel its cold sides rubbing at the point were they joined, making it feel even cooler. The heat in the booth was getting more unbearable and the air was harder and harder to breathe. That he had to cool down was his only thought.

Slowly he moved his ass over the spot but only as it reached the centre did the cool spot really feel cold enough. Bruiser noticed that his movement had risen it a little higher so he could hold it between his butt cheeks and hardly have to move at all. Soon it was high enough that all he had to do was bounce a little on it to feel its coolness and it felt so good as he continued to stroke his hot cock and play with his hard, sensitive nipples as he bounced up and down up and down on the coolness. That was until one bump caused the coldness to touch his ass bud.

Bruiser jumped from the chair in shock, hearing it flip up as his weight left it. Whatever the coldness was had touched his ass hole!!! But that couldn't be right!! Could it??? He thought as he pulled down the chair and ran his hand across it. Not only was there no bump but no cold spot either. Bruiser started to sweat - not only from the rising heat of the booth - but with fear that he had lost the coolness that had been his salvation. No matter how hard he tried he could not seem to find it. Dejected, hot and tired he sat back down on the chair resigned to the thought that he had foolishly lost his only comfort when beneath his cheek he felt the coldness once again. But it was small! Luckily he now knew how to make it bigger, he told himself. As he once again began to wriggle his ass till the coldness reached a size to which he could bounce. And as he bounced the coolness of what he had come to think of as a friend seemed to keep the heat at bay. When it again reached the point were he felt it touch his bud he didn't stop. He could not, would not loose this wonderful feeling again.

So instead he quickened his pace rising higher with each bounce and with each bounce it grew. Till he felt it push inside him and the deeper it went the cooler his body felt. By the time it was penetrating his ass an inch deep Bruiser's eyes were tightly shut as his head held back as his hands had left his hard cock to hold the seat as he raised himself again and again till the seat seemed to give way beneath him and he fell to the floor. Bruiser nearly cried at the thought that he had broken it. From his knees he could see from the light of the flickering monitor that the seat now hung down against the wall and he reached out to stroke it his fingers confirmed what he already knew. The coldness was gone once again.

But perhaps ... perhaps ... He thought ... hadn't his fingers failed to find it before? The chair was just at the right height he realized. If only it would work ... please God let it work, he prayed as his body was overwhelmed once again by the heat. Moving his ass back against the seat he began moving his cheeks slowly up and down his surface of it until with a tear of joy he once again felt the beautiful touch of its coolness. Bruiser could not hold back his joy as he quickened his pace feeling it grow between his cheek and he felt himself push back against it with gusto as he desperately tried to force it deeper still. He heard a sound from in front of him and looked up to find that a small tube had appeared just below the flickering monitor.

Even as he humped what had now become his obsession Bruiser's eyes were drawn to a small drop of liquid at its tip. Feeling the dryness of his mouth Bruiser ran his tongue across his chapped lips as his sudden deep desire to drink fought against his compulsion to keep the beautiful coolness buried deep inside his ass and the feeling of pleasure at its touch. Slowly he inched himself forward till his tongue could just reach the droplet on the tube's tip. He licked it and felt a hunger he never knew he possessed.

Even the slight salty taste of the creamy liquid couldn't stop him wrapping his lips around the tip of the tube and sucking on his new obsession and he rocked his body back and forward trying to spend as much time on each obsession as he could. Bruiser's eyes were drawn to the screen above as an image appeared of him on all fours rocking back and forward on the two shiny metal dildos. But by then his mind was so obsessed that despite the horror at the sight of him taking it in the ass and mouth, the feeling seemed so right to him that a small moan escaped his lips. His eyes never leaving the screen even as the image of two hot naked men with hot throbbing cocks were superimposed on the screen, taking the place of the dildos. At the sight of the naked men, something was triggered deep in his gut and he felt the heat increase two-fold. Desperate for the coolness only those men could provide, he quickened his pace yet again.

As he watched the pulsating image of himself between the two hunks Bruiser could not help realize how perfect the image was - how it showed him, as he always should have been, on his knees serving the cocks of his Masters. ONLY THEY COULD PROVIDE ME WITH THE RELIEF I NEED. ONLY MEN CAN TAKE THE HEAT AWAY. As the thought filled his mind he realized the cock slut before him was no longer someone who he could call Bruiser. It was the wrong name to call a submissive slut such as he. I'm not tough, I'm not straight, I don't deserve that name, I am a twink, I am a slut, Bruiser repeated in his mind, I need a name that suits me. I need a name that suits me.

Some time later the door of the booth slid silently open and Warden Jackson who, thanks to a hidden camera in the booth, had watched the whole episode, looked in at his new prize. "Well, Well. What have we got here?" Jackson said with a smile looking down at the now naked and broken bully.

"I am Justin, sir," the weak little voice answered from the floor. Jackson started to laugh as he watched the boy's eyes move down to the warden's crotch. Justin looked at the bulge there and could only think how good and refreshing it would be to suck on it. He fingered his own nipple and groaned, "oh, sooo hottt."

Jackson reached into the booth and clipped a collar and lead around Justin's neck. Justin licked his parched lips, eyeing the warden hungrily. "Soon little one," Jackson said with a smile as he led his new slave down the empty corridor to his office.

Later that evening Warden Jackson sat idly stroking Justin's hair. He was in his office and watching the Jonathon, his handsome naked ex-guard fucking Justin's ass, while the former bully sucked happily on his master's cock. He smiled wickedly as he watched the two one-time straight men now happy to debase themselves for his pleasure. A plan formed in his mind. Jackson reached over to the table and grabbed the microphone for the center's PA system.

"This is the Warden. As of tomorrow morning all inmates and guards will be required to obtain new photo id's. Said ids will be produced without cost courtesy of the new photo booths near the Warden's office. That is all." Chuckling, Jackson put the microphone down. He looked at the two smiling faces, blissfully lost in their new roles, and thought about how much happier everyone soon would be.



Somewhere from the darkness he could hear his name being called and found himself drawn to the sound. He was like a moth to a flame. The darkness faded and the shape before him resolved into that of a face. "Your highness, forgive me for disturbing your rest. But you asked to be awoken as we neared our destination," the man said as Salim tried to remember who this man was. "I did?" he asked slowly trying to remember what was going on. "Yes! Your highness was quite fatigued when the jet you requested arrived to take you home and asked that you not to be disturbed till we were close to home" Salim rubbed his eyes trying to think. Somehow he didn't remember any of what the man had told him and searched his mind for the last thing he did recall.

He had gone somewhere ... yes ... to an auction. That was right! To pick up something for his uncle ... and ... and ... Jack! ... He had found Jack, his old school-friend ... except, Jack was now a harem boy. ... Salim shook his head trying to remember, had he bought him? Had he bought his old American friend as a slave??? That didn't sound right ... but ... He remembered being between Jack's legs, driving his cock into Jack's virgin hole and it had been better than he ever dreamed it would be. Had it all been just a dream? No ... not a dream he realized as he looked across the cabin at the half naked figure lying sleeping on the floor. It was Jack, his muscled jock body draped scantily in a few pieces of silk clothing.

It had all really happened. But why had he called for a jet and why was he heading to his uncle's kingdom instead of back to his apartment?

He had a memory of someone saying that an Arabian palace was the place to keep a harem slave not an apartment ... of course they were right. The idea of keeping a harem slave anywhere but his uncle's palaces was ridiculous. But still ... something nagged at the back of his head ... did he once upon a time like his American apartment, where everyone was equal? "If your highness would excuse me I must return to the COCKpit and prepare for landing," the man said, breaking Salim's train of thought. Salim glanced guiltily over at Jack's semi-hard cock. Why should I feel guilty about looking at my slave's dick? He asked himself, after all, I OWN it now. Uh, that's not right, he thought.

"Ah sure, right! Landing ... ah how soon?" Salim stuttered still feeling a little confused by the whole situation.

"30 minutes your highness" was the answer as the pilot bowed and returned through the door at he front of the plane. Only when the door had closed did Salim realize that the man had not as much as looked at Jack lying on the floor. But of course his uncle's servants would have seen far worse and would be discreet.

Once again he found the sight of Jack intoxicating and felt his cock strain against the crotch of his shorts. 30 minutes? Plenty of time to ease his craving he thought, licking his lips. He called Jack's name out and pushed his own shorts down around his ankles. Jack stirred, and Salim felt a swelling surge of satisfaction and superiority as he watched his handsome ex-equal look up at him with wide eyes. Jack crawled to him on all fours and eagerly rapped his lips around his master's shaft. Salim was in heaven as the sight and sensation drove him over the top. He realized that 30 minutes would probably be far more time than he would need.

By the time the jet touched down on his uncle's private airfield and the pilot returned to open the door Salim had already redressed in clothing more suitable to an Arabian prince. He led his new slave down the steps of the plane to a waiting limousine. Although his uncle had a fleet of jets he refused to keep them close to the palace preferring to keep the illusion of living in a former time. That was fine with Salim as he once again got to put Jack to good use on the twenty-minute drive across the desert

The palace was all he remembered he thought as they drove threw the gates. A gaggle of servants waited to lead him to the sultan. And once again not one showed any surprise as he led Jack from the car by his thin gold chain. As he walked the long hallway to the throne room Salim marveled at all the statues and works of art that lined it and all without exception depicting the beauty and sexuality of the male form in all its glory down threw the ages.

As they reach the throne room the sultan rose from his throne and bidding the two gorgeous young men who sat at his feet to stay walked down the steps to meet the young prince with a smile. "Salim, my boy, it fills your uncle's heart with joy to see his favourite nephew once more," he said with a smile " and this must be the prize you have picked for your first slave." He walked around Jack before checking his teeth as he would a horse. "A fine choice my boy and such an interesting form of dress! I must get one made for each of my toys don't you think?" he said admiring Jack's cock veil with its butt plug. Salim smiled at his uncle's words. Somehow his uncle's approval of his choice filled him with pride.

The sultan smiled at his young nephew. "Come my boy we will stable your fine slave with mine till you have time to furnish your own harem." He led Jack across the floor and for a moment Salim's heart dropped "but of course you may make use of him and any others with in! All that I have is yours for your pleasure" the sultan said with a smile as he watched the young boy's face light up. The only things that mattered to Salim now where his own personal gratification and his Uncle's approval.

Salim couldn't believe his eyes as he walked through the large doors to the side of the throne. He found himself in a vast room with a domed ceiling held aloft by great marble pillars each holding brightly collared lengths of silk that hang like waves above the equally impressive marbled floor. Not that Salim noticed any of the grandeur as his eyes were drawn to all the naked male flesh that lay around on silken pillows or splashed in the large pool. The pool was huge with its four large kneeling male bronze statues each with an impressive erection and holding an urn on its shoulder each like Aquarius in the centre of the room. "My own design my boy!" the sultan said proudly as he watched the boy's reaction to his men of bronze "If the water gets too cold simply pull down one of the statues erections and he will pour warm water from the urn," his uncle said with a smile.

Salim had never seen such a beautiful sight in all his life. Each face and form his eyes fell on made his mouth water with desire. Each one different - Asian, African, European - tall, short, fat thin - all mixed together, their bodies entwined and lost in the lust they held for each other. Salim's cock had never felt so hard as he looked from one to another, and all the while his uncle's words were running through his head. "All that I have is yours for your pleasure," he had said and Salim could see endless pleasure stretching out before him. As he went from body to body his uncle looking on with a smile.

Suddenly Salim's face dropped as his eyes fell on three Arab boys pleasuring themselves like all the others. Yet these three were unlike the others for these three whose faces he had known all his life. "Uncle how could you?" Salim asked pointing to the boy across the room. "Yes I expected you would be shocked," the sheik said shaking his head. "Shocked? Of course I'm shocked! They're my own brothers, your own nephews!" Salim blurted out. "Yes they were Salim! But unlike you their hearts were filled with nothing but greed and ambition. Do you know they actually planned to send me to my ancestors long before my time? And they would have succeeded had I not taken care of them first." The sultan said with a sad smile. "But uncle why this? Why make them into slaves?" Salim asked looking into his uncle's face. Part of his new programming was that his family bloodline was strong and superior, it caused him pain to see them humbled like this.

"You of all people should know what lay in their hearts my boy," the sultan said with a smile. Salim remembered the pain his older brothers had caused him all those years ago when they noticed the way he looked at the boys around him. Not that he ever done anything but it was enough for them to spit on him and say he was cursed for all time just like his uncle. There taunts and abuse had been part of the reasons that the mere fourteen year old Salim had left to go to school overseas. His Uncle's words made a lot of sense to him (they all did now), and seeing them now happily doing what they had beaten a young boy for just thinking about filled him with satisfaction!

Yet he felt sadness also that they where now nothing more than mindless slaves " yes nephew I know! Their sweet asses are, like all the rest, yours if you wish! But the choice is yours!"

Salim looked at his brothers and had to admit that they looked happier that he could ever remember them...But Still! "Thank you Uncle but no!" he said and watched his uncle smile.

"As you wish my boy. Perhaps in time you will change your mind" As his uncle turned to leave Salim made to follow but his uncle stopped him, "No, my boy you stay and play while I take care of some matters of state! Oh yes before I go did you pick up that item I asked you to pickup?" the sheik asked with a smile.

Of course, Salim thought with a smile and reached into his pocket pulling out a small package and handing it to his uncle.

"Thank you my boy! Now go play," the sheik said before walking from the room

Salim felt like a kid in a candy store. Had it been only yesterday that he had led a normal life he wondered, as he looked around at all the willing slaves that only waited his command to serve his every desire, and not forgetting his old friend Jack and his sweet ass who even now was by his side. Not surprisingly he did not know were to start. He giggled to himself as a thought crossed his mind. Since he felt like giving thanks then this was his thanksgiving, so why not start with the white meat? The next hour was spent sampling as many of the delights as he could but always retuning to his Jack who's tight, less-used ass felt so good to him. And it was as he stood waist deep in the pool behind Jack, kissing and fondling two slaves, as he filled Jack's ass once again and feeling it give way to his cock that the sultan returned.

The sultan smiled to see his nephew happily enjoying his toys "Salim my boy you look happy!" the sultan said with a smile. Salim looked up from the pool feeling a little embarressed being caught like that by his uncle yet the sensations he was feeling kept his hips pounding forward. He even smiled as he saw his uncle revel in the seen.

"Forgive me my boy I just realize I forgot to show you what it was you collected for me," his uncle said with a smile as he removed the little package from his robe. Salim eyes followed the hand as it reached inside. When the hand returned to sight Salim saw that it now wore a distinctive gold ring that he had seen before. He found his mind slipping away as he watched his ...watched...his... his ... his Master drop his robe and step into the pool.

Salim stood, his hard cock still deep within Jack's ass, as his master stepped in behind him and he felt his hands spread his ass cheeks before his master's hard cock pushed slowly at first then quicker till it filled his tight ass, each thrust driving him forward and his cock deeper into Jack's ass time and time again. The sultan laughed as he fucked the two willing slaves. He leaned in and whispered into Salim-the-harem-slave-boy's ear words the boy did not understand, "All that I have is yours for your pleasure my Boy and all that you have is now mine". As he fucked the slaves in his palace, the Sultan laughed.




Roger Clark arrived on the campus of Capitol City Christian College. And as he looked around at the small out of the way school, he remembered his own school days somewhere very like this. He had many memories of his school days and very few were good. It made the things he did to hot young guys a lot easier. Somewhere like this was the last place he would ever come back to. But as it turned out he had little choice if he were to obtain two of the four presents he planned to give the sultan. Roger always made a point of checking the personal belongings of his converted slaves before destroying them in case he found something important. When he first checked Jack's wallet he had hardly given its contents a second glance but after the Prince's request and the Sultan's order he had been glad he had not had time to get rid of it. Taking an old photo from his pocket he looked at the five smiling faces of a school swimming team who had just won some school championship or other. Jack had been a true friend it seemed and had kept in touch with his old friends. From the different styles of hand writing on the back of the photo it was clear that each boy had gotten a copy and put his contact address on the back of the others. Two of those names had come here to go to school.

To tell the truth Roger was feeling a bit nervous as he sauntered into the athletic building, it had been a long time since he had been out hunting ass. Sure in the last fifteen years he had caught and converted hundreds of young men but that had been more liking fishing, or more accurately, shooting fish in a barrel. Dropping his photo booths down like a lure and scooping up whatever ended up in his net. But catching specific targets without getting caught yourself was far trickier. Had the sultan not been an old and valuable customer and also the one who had helped with the finance and development of his first prototype booth he would probably have passed on the job. But as it was he owed the Arab big time. What made it more dangerous was the fact that the feds were probably scouring the countryside for the young cop and other boys that had gone missing from that town right now. Sure he had fooled a bunch of hick cops for years but the FBI were a different mater. It wouldn't take them long to make a connection between missing young men and the fact that there was a carnival in town at the time. The fact that it wasn't the same one each time may throw them for a while but Roger was sure that eventually someone would notice that a Mr. Roger Clark had the photo booth concession in each one. And then they would come looking for him. Well, the booths were stashed away at the juvie hall, most of the "evidence" was out of the country, and Roger himself planned to be well away on a private jet to a place with out extradition were he could enjoy his ill-gotten gains by then.

If it hadn't been for the shortness of time he would have just had to convince the athletic director one way or another to let him install some booths inside the men's locker room. And waited till the two boys, along with some of their friends, fell into his hands. But Roger knew that the first hint of more young men disappearing would bring agents right to his door. So he had no time to waste.

Roger felt a little sad that he would soon have to leave the country. The US had been the perfected hunting ground. Black, white, Asian, European, tall, short, fat, thin, no matter what type of boy the customer wanted you could find it there in great supply. Now that was lost...or was it? Roger thought of Warden Jackson and the boys he would have for him in the months to come as he looked up at the impressive college building before him. Maybe it was time for a change, he thought with a smile as the word franchise stuck in his mind.

Roger told the director's secretary that he was a former student that had some good luck over the years and by way of paying back the college for what they had done for him he had come to offer the use of his photo booths as part of the sport's department's fund raiser for the campus carnival. The director, John Franks, a short man with glasses, had been overjoyed with the kind offer and quickly agreed to a demostration of the booths that Roger had offered. Once Roger had him inside the booth he quickly flipped open the panel on the side and started the modified program he had created for Salim. With one or two changes he had made it would be perfect for what he had planed.

Of course the athletic director was blissfully unaware of this and sat staring at the flickering screen as it and the gas made the dramatic changes to his mind. As when he exited the booth ten minutes later, mild mannered John Franks was gone and in his place was a full-fledged gay slave master, like Salim. Roger could see from the way the man's eyes darted back and forward at all the students walking across the campus that he now had an insatiable hunger for all types of young men. Roger rubbed his hands slowly together as he made the man an offer he wouldn't even think of refusing. Franks would have the use of two of his special Photo-booths to get the all boy ass he could ever want and in exchange Roger would receive photos of Frank's converted cock slaves from which Roger could choose a few special guys for his stock. And best of all if the Feds did come looking he had just created a perfect scapegoat; by then he would be well gone and the director would take all the heat for all of the missing boys.

Just then a group of All-American boys wearing only skimpy nylon shorts and running shoes jogged by. Yes Franks could pick him up some nice stock here; CCCC would fill a lot of orders over the next few months. Roger watched the runners jostling an extremely overweight young man as they ran past him. He smiled at the way the fat lad's belly jiggled like jelly, yes the boy was just the sort that a certain Southeast Asian general preferred.

With out thinking about it Roger helped the overweight young man to his feet with a smile.

"Thank you sir" the young man said with a downcast face.

"Finding it a bit tough going are we young man?" Roger Clark asked with a feeling expression.

"Yea! You can say that again man! I think I'll just give up!" the boy said with a sad smile.

"What you need my boy is motivation and I might have just what you need!" Roger said with a smile. The young man looked up at the stranger with suspicion. "No nothing like that!" Roger said with a laugh as he explained to the boy he was one of the vendors for the campus carnival, "I have a photo booth in the truck that might be of help! It's got a program that would change your image to a buff guy. Then all you have to do is look at it when you need motivation," he said handing the young man a token.

The young man looked at the token and then at his watch. "It can't take more than a few minutes," he said to himself out loud. Clark led him to the booths with a smile as he quickly set-up the buttons for what he had in mind.

Ezekiel Hall sat down in the booth. He had to admit that the thought of getting a chance to look buff like all the guys he admired on campus might be worth wasting a few minutes of his time. He sat looking at the screen waiting for it to show him the converted image. All he could see was a flicking screen. Yet even as Zeke tried pulling his eyes away from the screen the swirling colors already had him hooked. Without thinking about it his hands began to caress his ample belly as his hands began to unbutton his shirt revealing a fur covered chest. From outside the booth Roger smiled as he could hear the man began to moan as he touched his nipples. As Bruiser had been before him, Zeke was on all fours lost in pleasure as the metal dildo entered his mouth and he began to suck hard on the device with gusto. The next part of the program was up to Roger. The usual programs he had built into the booth would work for what the general wanted. Opening the side panel Roger connected up the microphone. Not that Zeke would hear his voice. The booth would convert his voice to one with a pitch almost to high for the human ear to hear. But Roger knew well from the success of his booths programming that the mind heard it all too well. When Roger's voice came from the speaker above the screen it echoed in Zeke head without him being aware of it, Roger had to adlib a set of commands but he was happy with what he came up with. "Squeal fat boy! Squeal like a pig! You are such a pig! Squeal you hungry pig. Squeal and suck pig boy! Squeal and suck the cock like the pig you are. Squeal you fat pig boy ".

Zeke couldn't hear any of this with his waking mind but he was still unable to control himself. He began to squeal and oink as Roger triggered the machine to push the other dildo deeper into his ass. As he began to impale himself on the dido, his squealing began to get even louder. Clark opened the booth while holding his camera phone pointing at his newest slave all dressed up in a black leather thong as it rutted on the floor of the booth like a pig. On the other end of the call the general was grinning as he rubbed his crotch before promising his jet right away to pick up his new toy.

While Roger was taking Piggy to the plane, Chris had spotted the new photo-booth being wheeled into the college sports centre and being a bit of a joker he had had a wicked idea for a prank.

He jogged over to his frat house to get some tools, and supersoaker loaded with slime. In less than fifteen minutes he was removing the outside access panel to the booth with his wrench. He was surprised by the amount of high tech electronics inside the booth. There were all sorts of rubber tubes, and cannisters of some sort of gas. Chris figured it was probably coolant for all the electronics. He had to pull some of the wires, to make room for the SuperSoaker and he wired a small electronic motor into machine. He attached the motor to the trigger mechanism, and a second motor to the pump mechanism. He pressurized the Super Soaker, and positioned it angled upward through the air vent. The way he rigged it, at least the way he thought he rigged it. The first photo would trigger the firing mechanism of the squirt gun spraying the victim with slime as the camera photographed them. Then the photodispenser's activation would trigger the pump mechanism to repressurize the gun for the next victim. Chris figured there was enough slime in the gun to soak at least four victims.

There were a couple of loose wires dangling in the machine, so Chris spliced them together and connected them to the mother board at an open junction. He then put the panel back into place and secured the bolts. He smiled he figured he'd get a twofer with his first victims. He had selected a jock and a nerd to slime. Chris knew that the photos of the two together with a semi-opaque white slime on the faces and clothing, probably with both their mouths gaping open would look like he'd caught a couple of gay boys 69ing. He figured his second victims would be wimpy balding Professor James and that cute freshman bodybuilder Tony. He hid his tools and the kit to clean up in between victims in the bushes, and pulled out his video camera and waited.

Myles was first to arrive, the nerd looked at his watch irrititated. He wasn't looking forward to this, but Chris was the BMOC, and if Myles was ever to have a chance with any of the hot sorority girls he needed to get into the frat.

Garth was pissed, he had a hot date planned for tonight with Missy, but Chris was his frat president, so he had called her and told her he'd be an hour late. He'd be really pissed when he found out that the prank Chris had planned for the nerdling Myles was also going to be a prank on him. He shook his head getting some water out of his ear. The water polo team that Garth captained had won, but it had been a rough game and he'd been fouled and held under water when a fight broke out in the pool. That probably contributed to his attitude. He rounded Joseph Hall, and saw the nerd waiting next to the photobooth, and grinned. This might be fun, he thought, as he clenched his fist. Garth hadn't beaten up a faggy nerd in weeks.

"Hey, Myles!" Garth called in an unnaturally gregarious voice.

Myles swallowed. This had to be some sort of humiliating trap, but he'd endure it if he could get into that frat. He knew the dumb jocks needed nerds to bring up the frat's overall GPA and to tutor them, so he didn't think it would be too bad.

"Hello, Garth," Myles shouted back.

They were soon jammed into the booth together with their bodies pressing awkwardly against each other. Garth was supposed to wait for the first photo flash to start pummeling Myles, but the only way they were both going to fit in front of the monitor camera was for the smaller Myles to sit on Garth's lap. The pressure of Myles butt cheeks on his crotch caused Garth's organ to swell beneath Myles. Neither young man said anything out of embarrassment, though both shifted uncomfortably. Then Myles put a five dollar bill into the machine.

The screen flickered and the monitor flickered, faded to black, and then seemed to reboot.

"Fuck you broke it, nerd!" Garth snapped.

"Nah, it's just rebooting," Myles said sniffing as he smelled an ozone odor that seemed to get sweeter, it was messing up his sinuses.

The monitor reappeared showing the $5.00 credit. The electromagnets built-in to the upper part of the booth hummed as they began to realign the polarized brain chemicals in its two latest victims. Normally the hum was not noticeable, but Chris' tampering had raised the power input by a factor of ten.

"What's that noise?" Garth asked shifting Myles on his knee. He was starting to feel really horny, and a stray thought crossed his mind that Myles was kind of cute.

"Just a transformer I guess," drawled Myles who was closer to the hissing air vent.

The monitor began flickering,and a woman's voice came out of the speaker, "My gentlemen, aren't you two gents handsome!"

Both Myles and Garth blushed.

"Please select your photo background from these choices," it said.

The monitor changed offering four scenes: 1) a roller coaster, 2) a jungle, 3) a locker room, and 4) a laboratory. Underneath the four was a button marked more choices.

"I vote for jungle or locker room," Garth said in a commanding voice.

"Yeah, I bet," Myles answered.

The screen flickered and the four choices changed.

"Hey, what did you do? I wanted to pick one of those," Garth complained.

"I didn't touch anything!" Myles protested. He took his glasses off, and rubbed his eyes.

The whirring of the electromagnets increased another tenfold, and Myles wire framed glasses flew out of his hands and stuck to the back of the photobooth.

Drool was dripping out of both Garth's and Myles' mouths as they stared gaping at the flickering screen. The selection on the monitor read "Master and Servant". The DePeche Mode standard began to play, and Myles and Garth began to sway to the music.

From his vantage point, Chris was cursing that the dark curtain was blocking his view of anything other than the two men's feet. He had expected the drape to whip open as soon as Garth began pounding Myles. He was surprised when he saw Garth and Myles feet disappear and return barefoot. Their shoes clattered on the floor of the booth. Chris wondered what the hell was happening when he saw Myles and Garth's trousers and underwear drop to their ankles.

He grinned, he hadn't expected this, it was better than he'd hoped.

"My he-ad hur-r-t-s," moaned Garth.

Myles just drooled and moaned.

Garth started counting trying to stay focused, "One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Sixth, Sveven, Ni-i-on, T-uh."

Myles groaned, "-en, Elveven, Twelfth, Firteen..."

"Damn, my mind's exploding, I had no idea that my plays were based on physics," Myles' voice said.

The computer had used the magnets to scan and copy the brain imprints of each subject, and then surging with more power the computer had super-imposed copies of each other's brain over the other erasing their original imprints. Garth's mind and soul now occupied slight Myles body, and was thinking thoughts faster than he thought possible. Everything was suddenly clear. Myles was looking down at his bare pecs in his his collared slave harness, he was now Garth. Somehow he'd managed to swap bodies with the big dumb athlete. He found it hard to think clearly.

The monitor hummed and flickered. The big jock Myles was thrilled that he could be brilliant Garth's obedient jock slave. Garth adjusted his leather pouch, and pulled the leather jeans that the machine had dispensed on. He then proceeded to secure his former cock in a chastity device that resembled a jockstrap's cup, but with metal piping inside and a handcuff lock that imprisoned the slave's cock and balls by the root. Then Garth put the key on a chain hanging from his suddenly slight neck. And Myles knelt on the floor in front of Garth, and sucked his master's cock.

Chris balked as the machine dispensed its photostrip, and the curtain swung open. He saw Myles dressed from head to toe in black leather. Then he gasped as nearly naked Garth followed Myles out submissively led by a chain dog lead.

"What the fuck is going on, Garth!" Chris demanded as he came out of the bushes.

Myles answered, "Hey, Chris, I always admired my body, but now I own it, and I can think thoughts I never could've before. That photobooth is actually a complex piece of equipment that transferred our minds and programmed Myles to be my obedient jock-slave."

"Myles?"

"Yes, sir?" Garth answered submissively.

"What the fuck?" Chris glared at them and entered the photobooth to see what was going on.

He looked around at the empty booth. What had happened to their clothes? And there wasn't any slime anywhere in the booth. Chris leaned down to examine the vent and inhaled deeply and dreamily.

The voice came out of the speaker, "Please insert five dollars."

Chris felt so relaxed, and happy, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill. He had completely forgotten about the super soaker loaded with slime.

The monitor flickered.

The selection "CUM ADDICT" appeared on the screen as the super soaker began to pump streams of white slime into Chris' face.

Chris mind was blank and his mouth wide open as his own super soaker began to pump streams of white slime into his willing face. From down the hall Roger stepped from the shadows.

"What have we here?" Roger Clark glared. There had been no super soaker in his original machine. Though he couldn't argue with success.


Roger smiled as he pulled curtain back and looked down at Chris's naked form covered in white slime as he jerked off till he came hard all over his hand and licked it all off with gusto. Clark popped open the panel and frowned, at least two others had been processed and wandered off. He corrected the wiring by resplicing the wires, and integrating the super soaker into the device for future victims.

He unzipped his zipper and motioned for Chris to go to work. Chris proved to be an eager beaver, and a natural born cock sucker.

Like a certain recent US president, Clark liked to multitask. And while Chris dealt with his cock, Clark used his cell phone.

"And the rest?" Clark asked. "I will e-mail you pictures of all slave boys I convert for you choice at the end off every mount Sir" he answered his voice shaking as Chris worked his cock and balls milking out every last drop. "Well, I've got an eager fratboy for you, just br-reaking him in for you, if you want to come pick him up."

Franks dashed over from his office to collect his new prize. Clark alerted him that there might be a couple slave boys wandering around campus.

Roger smiled as he watched the once prim and proper Franks order his three new slaves into the back of the van he had loaned him and drive off. Roger made his way to his own car. Things were looking up, he thought. So far he had two willing collectors for his future auctions and two willing slave on the way. Just two more boys and he would be home free. Life was good.

Garth couldn't get over how fast his new mind worked. He was already assessing his new body. Myles' body had a lot to work with really. Good bone structure, he just needed a proper diet and muscle training. Garth wondered if he should keep thinking of himself as Garth or if he should adopt Myles name. He shrugged it really didn't matter, he knew who he was, and the guy in his former body knew he was his slave. Garth was just a little nervous that it might not be permanent, but he felt pretty certain it was.

Myles in Garth's body moaned, as it was stretched from the modified Icarian Weight machine. It was now a rack with the weights stretching the spread eagle athlete painfully. Worst of all Myles was loving it. He didn't understand why his mind seemed to be thinking like it was full of molasses. He didn't understand why he was a slave boy to wimpy Garth. He just knew it was so. He really loved having a muscled body, but he loved his brainy master more.

Garth laughed as he tweaked his former nipple and Myles writhed in pain. He adjusted the weights, and Myles dropped to his knees, and begged to suck his cock. Garth was going to enjoy his college career. He grinned, as he had a few ideas about those photobooths, as regarded his fellow frat brothers.

After a couple of hours, Garth and Myles lay sore and sweaty with their limbs intertwined snoring. The two never suspected what had happened to Chris or the nefarious plan behind the photobooths which was still unfolding. Likewise Roger Clark never realized that his machines could be used to swap bodies, he could have replaced world leaders, and would have for a price, if he had only known.

Several hours later and many hundreds of miles away Roger sat in his car drinking what would be his third black coffee in as many hours and tried to wake himself up. It would have been so much simpler and quicker to fly here Roger thought even as he reminded himself why he hadn't. Things had been so much easier before 911 when internal flights were more like a bus ride with no id being needed. If, as he suspected the feds were on his trail by now, his name on a flight manifest would have started bells ring. And the feds would have been waiting even before he touched down. No this way was safer and he could always sleep when it was over.

It was another half hour before he spotted his next victim leaving the dorm building heading for class. And Roger wasted no time in heading after him. "Excuse me sir, is your name Kevin Stanton?" he said as he reached the boy who stopped and turned around with a surprised look on his face. "

Who wants to know?" Roger reached into his pocket and being careful to keep his thumb over the photo flashed patrolman Gallagher's badge before returning it to his jacket.

"Detective Clark, and I was wondering if you could spare me a few moments" Roger said looking for any sign that the boy had noticed the fact that the badge not only hadn't said detective but hadn't even been from this state. Luckily for Roger the boy had been to concerned with the bag of pot in his rucksack and how much the cop knew of his dealing on campus to notice.

Roger allowed him self a smile as he watched the boy squirm. "Sure...man...what ...can I do for you?" Kevin said putting his rucksack on the ground beside him.

"Don't worry Kid I just need you to help with a case I am working on. That's all" Kevin was visibly sweating as his eyes darted from side to side as he wondered if he should make a break for it or not. Roger let him stew for a little longer. Roger thought of the saying that an innocent man had nothing to fear from the police and wondered if someone would someday find that innocent man. If they did he would be worth millions. Roger knew only too well that everyone felt guilty of something. And even though he didn't know what it was, je could see the guilt on the boy's face. So Roger knew that the more agitated the boy was the more relieved he would be when he found out he wasn't been busted, and probably when asked for help he would be more co-operative. "I believe that you are a friend of a young man by the name of..." Roger paused for effect removing a notebook and pretending to study it "by the name of Jack Clinton?"

The young man didn't know what to think about the question and found him self-blurting out the answer before he could stop himself. "Yea we went to school together a few years back!" he said wondering as he did what Jack had done and if he had just made his situation worse.

"I'm sorry to tell you that your friend has gone missing! And would like you to look at something that might help find him!" Roger said watching the look of relief and concern cross the boy face.

"Jack missing? Sure anything I can do to help. But I haven't seen him in months!" Kevin said surprised by the weight that seemed to have lifted from his shoulders.

"Yes we know that. But we still need you to watch something for us," Roger said, leading Kevin to the white panel van. "Your friend was last seen entering this photo booth." Roger said leading the young man inside "What we would like for you to do is watch the security footage from inside and let us know if you notice anything strange" before sitting the young man in the booth and closing the curtain.

Kevin was so surprised and confused at what was happening that he didn't even notice the heavy sweet smell that seemed to permeate the small space as the screen flickered to life and he watched the equally flickering image of Jack stepping into the booth and wondered why his friend dropped his head into his lap for a moment before looking back up to the monitor. The camera that had recorded the image must have been just above the monitor. As Kevin could see Jack looked almost directly at him but could not see what was on the screen.

As he watched the screen Kevin saw his friend's face change from boredom to a smile as Jack seemed to reach over and make a choice. He couldn't help noticing that whatever his friend had chosen had stopped him smiling for a moment before his face changed once again and Jack seemed to be laughing. Kevin rubbed his eyes as the flickering of the screen and hot sweet air in the booth made him feel drowsy. But the cop had said he could help find his friend so he did his best to focus on the job at hand. When he saw Jack's eyes close for a moment with a smile only to be followed by a look of shock Kevin wondered what the hell was going through his hunky friends mind.

Had he really just thought of Jack as being hunky? Kevin asked himself, as the air seemed to get thicker somehow? Sure Jack had a great body, he knew that. Kevin had seen it often enough hadn't he? Kevin's mind returned to his times on the swimming team and the image of Will, Warren, Arthur, Jack and himself looking hot in their Speedo's. Yes they had all looked so hot hadn't they?

Kevin tried to make sense of his feelings as he looked at the screen. They had all looked hot and hunky. After all they were five hunky guys strutting around the pool, in the locker-room, in the showers. Kevin felt a strange thought enter his mind as he remembered looking at Jack and the others in the showers. Looking at their bodies, at their cocks. But that was normal wasn't it? All guys check out other cocks wondering what they would look like hard, don't they? Just to compare them. Kevin shook his head trying to get the image of Jack's hot hard cock out of his mind. When he looked back to the screen Jack was holding something in his hands and Kevin moved closer to the screen to see what it could be just as a burst of hot air came from the vent just below it.
Was it a veil? Jack seemed to think so for a moment but no! Kevin rubbed his eyes again. It was getting so hard to concentrate, so hard to think, so hard Kevin thought and again the image of Jack's hard cock came to the front of his mind. He let his hand move to his crotch just as the drawer opened in front of him and he looked inside. Wasn't this what Jack was holding he thought as he lifted the filmy silk square with a gold chain out!

Back on the screen Jack was standing now and Kevin eyes locked on the image as piece by piece Jack removed his clothing. And as hard as he tried to fight it, Kevin felt himself get hard at the sight of his friend stripping. But NO! That wasn't right! He didn't think of guys, especially Jake that way... did he? Yet even as he thought this he opened his jeans and pushed them and his shorts down round his ankles and began rubbing his cock with the little silk veil in this grasp.

Kevin's hand stopped moving when he saw Jack turn and put the cock veil on and pushing the butt plug up his ass with a big smile. Kevin looked down at the plug in his hand and wondered what it would feel like to have something like that deep inside him. Hell what was he thinking??? What the hell was he doing sitting there getting turned on watching one of his buddies stripping and putting a butt plug up his ass? The vents sprayed more of their mind melting gas into his face. Kevin let out a moan as the screen flickered again and the image change to Jack dressed completely as a sexy harem boy dancing in a cage. Kevin's mouth dropped open at the sight as all misgivings about what he was doing drifted away. God Jack looks SO HOT as a slave he realized as he watched his friend gyrating like a pole dancer for someone in the shadows. Again Kevin found his was around his cock and he pumped it with new vigor. Kevin imagined himself dancing like that ... looking that sexy ... that FUCKABLE.

He stripped his clothing and dropped them in the drawer and began putting the collar around his neck and the matching gold armbands and ankle-bands around his limbs. But still the thought of the cock veil and it butt plug made him stop to think and again the gas filled the booth some more and the picture changed once again.

Kevin watched as a door opened and a face from his past walked through it leading Jack by a golden chain. The image of Prince Salim made Kevin's jump as he realized that he was Jack's Master, a true master, a master he would be lucky to serve. Kevin's hands slipped the ring over the plug. As he watched the prince kneel between Jacks legs, Kevin bent over slightly and waited until Salim pushed his cock into's Jack ass, so that at the same time he could push the plug hard against his own virgin ring and insert it in his asshole in and out in and out. He used the butt plug imagining it was the Prince's beautiful cock that was filling his willing ass as he bent forward and kissed the screen.

A little time later when the gas had been extracted Roger looked in at the newest harem slave and smiled three down and only one more to go he thought.

Only four days after Roger Clark had packed away the carnival he found himself standing outside the offices of the Blue Star Arcades, when he had read the last name on the list. It never occured to him that the Warren on the list could be related to the well known W.D Calbert sr. owner of some of the biggest arcades on the west coast. It had taken a bit of sweet talking to get in to see the big man and when he eventually did Clark went through the same speech he had used on all of the carnival owners about how his booths would improve business leading Calbert through a long presentation, as he looked around thinking about how he would get Warren Jr into one of the booths.

Just then a voice called from hall "Hey dad! Where do you want Tommy, Perry, Ingo and me to put these two machines"?

Clark couldn't believe his luck. He had expected junior to be working in an office somewhere in the building, but standing in the doorway, dressed in overalls was Warren Calbert Jr along with a chunky red haired 18 year old whom Clark assumed was Tommy.

It was a well-known fact around the carnivals that W.D Calbert had made his own fortune, starting with a few one-arm bandits and a Pool table and building up to over sixty arcades. W.D might have sent the boy to a prep school but he obviously believed that experience was the best teacher. Mr. Calbert began to say something to the boys, but Clark quickly interrupted. "Mr. Calbert, before you make any decisions, why don't you three try my booths?"

W.D. looked at Clark and rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for your toys. My son and nephew can try them, if they like them we will keep one or two of them. If not you can take them with you as you leave," he said gruffly. Clark smiled as he and the two boys walked out of the office to check out the booths.

Meanwhile, Ingo, who was an 18-year-old exchange student from Germany and had arrived in town only three months ago, was teaming up with the 22-year-old Perry were already unloading the photo booths from the truck.

With a crunch, the two men sat the second booth down it heavily. "Shit," said Ingo. "I hope we haven't broken it." The booth began to make a buzzing sound. Frightened that they had broken something Ingo looked inside the booth, he was quickly followed by Perry.

Ingo winced as the sweet smelling mist came out of the vent. In their rush forward into the booth, Perry had bumped into Ingo and they both fell down, finding themselves tangled on the floor of the booth as the screen began to flicker. The machine must have detected that two of them were in there, as the images of the screen were of two men in various positions. Each light seemed to flash with a perculiar type of desperation, and the two men on the floor began to feel that same desperation. It seemed to be telling them to do something, pleading with them, which in turn infected them and made them pleading and needy. First it seemed to make them desperately want to take their clothes off. As they lay there they began rubbing their chests as the air in the booth getting hotter and the flashing brighter. Ingo was first to remove his shirt and for some reason found himself pinching his nipples. He let out a low sexy moan.

Perry was soon shirtless too, with his hands rubbing his muscular hairy pecs. Then a new type of desperation set in, wiping the boys brains and replacing it with one all encompassing desire. As the two boys watched the screen started to flash picture after picture of big dripping cocks in rapid order. Each image jumping from the screen into Ingo and Perry minds as both lunged for the big dildo that suddenly appeared in front of their faces. Perry, the bigger of the two, won out pushing the smaller Ingo away as he sucked the metal dildo into his mouth. Ingo seemed lost for a moment before quickly opening Perris overalls and wrapping his lips around the older man's dick. As the two moaned in pleasure they were totally reprogrammed.

Robert Clark having noticed with a little surprise that booth number one was occupied quickly ushered Warren and Tommy into booth number two and closed the curtain. He opened booth one's curtain to see 2 handsome rave slaves. Clark smiled and shucks his head as he realized that after all these years of trying to entice his prey into his traps now that he had decided to retire from the game boys just seemed to be falling into his lap. So these must be Ingo and Perry he realized as they stood there, looking around with blank expressions on there faces wearing only lycra jockstraps with pacifiers hanging out of their mouth's.

Clark was especially excited, as he looking at Ingo. Maybe the States were off-limits for him for a while but it seemed that foreign boys would unsuspectingly step into this trap just as easily. He could see Ingo was quiet slim but not too thin. Just the kind of boy slave that manly mature masters got hot on, he thought. Clark reached out his hand and caressed Ingo's head, as he just stood there with blank eyes not able to move or do anything else. Clark knew someone very tough and hard who would just love the little baby faced German boy. Sure he was trying to keep a low profile but it would be so easy to get away with this boy, since no one would miss him here for a long time.

Next Clark looked at Perry, who stood quiet, mature for his age. With his muscular worked out body and the hairy chest and pecs in addition to the full goatee he looked like the type who would have thought of him as masterful. Clark grinned brightly as he thought of this guy now being a slave.

Looking at Ingo he suspected the boy was not only straight but most likely totally inexperienced. Fresh meat Clark thought remembering earlier as he walked through the arcade that all the employees were boys of college age or high school seniors. Clark had liked this idea very much. Time for another and bigger franchise he thought. First thing he would have to do would be to convince Mr. Calbert to use one of his booths. Once Calbert was in the booth, he would just run the same program he had on Franks. With Blue Star Arcade up and down the west coast it would be the biggest payday ever. Hell, he could just BUY the FBI if he needed to!

Clark opened the curtain of booth 2 and looked at Warren and Tommy as they sat both dressed as harem boys. He smiled as he sent a picture of Tommy, the chunky red head dressed in the trappings of a belly dancer to the general who made his usual arrangements and told Clark he would give him a bonus, if he could find him a hefty Japanese boy (preferably of sumo proportions).

Clark collared Ingo and Perry leading them to a supply closet. He would only need to hide them for a little while if his plan was going to work. Clark instructed Warren and Tommy to act normal as he retrieved their overalls from the booth and watched them put them on over their harem outfits. When he was sure they could play their parts Clark lead the two boys back to Colbert's office. "Dad his booths are so awesome" Warren said.

"Yeah Uncle Warren there is no way to explain it, you really have to try it for yourself. " Tommy stated almost to excitedly.

Clark smirked as the boys rimed off his rehearsed statement.

Calbert looked at the boys nonchalantly. "Ok Clark you have them impressed at least, I am a man of my word I'll take both booths".

Clark thought for a moment "Mister Calbert it is a policy of mine to give good service. I don't think I could give my booths to anyone unless they themselves try them out, so that they understand the product and know how to sell it."

Calbert gave a glaring look to Clark and then at his son and nephew and shook his head. A minute later the four men went down to the booths. "Clark you might just have talked yourself out of a sale if I find I don't like these booths of yours. You know that don't you?" Calbert said as he stepped inside.

Clark just smiled and set some buttons. Inside the booth the lights strobed and pulsed Calbert found himself drawn to the club music. In his addled gas-soaked mind appeared images of himself as a younger man stripping off his clothes for other men to see and want. Calbert found himself being filled with lust as it changed to young men serving his needs and forcing these boys to strip for older men. Grooming these hot young men to be slaves.

When Calbert exited the booth his six foot six frame was accented by a leather harness and leather chaps. The 50 year old's still muscular frame looked intimidating, especially now he was holding a leather crop and had a black biker's cap contrasting with his salt and pepper hair.

With a smile Clark got ready for part two of his plan! That would be to install his hypnosis program into the most popular video games in each arcade! True, without the mind numbing gas it would take hours if not days to turn young jocks into hungry cock slaves. But then again they would spend day playing the games so no problem there. The trick was more subtle programming, so that only the hottest guys were converted, and then only so that they themselves did not understand as their behaviour changed. The next part of the plan was even better. Every arcade up and down the country had several floors for storage one floor at least was about to become the Blue Star male strip club and brothel. Run By the respected W.D Calbert with all profits going to the bank account of Mr. Robert Clark.

Calbert looked around to find Clark with Ingo and Perry on leashes and his son and nephew dressed in sheer-slave garments. Calbert grabbed the leashes of Ingo and Perry. "Clark, my son and nephew are yours to do with as you like, but take your hands off my prize slave and star performer." Clark chuckled knowing his special suggestions he spoke into the subliminal had worked. Clark and Calbert made arrangements on the transfer of slaves. At the end of the day thirteen of the arcades twenty-eight employees had been converted into male strippers slaves. Clark left knowing that he would soon have a thriving hands-off business.

Clark waited at a private airstrip with all his prizes in his possession. He had phoned the sultan that morning and explained his need not only to leave the United States for a while but also to do it without leaving any records. The sultan had made arrangement to have a jet pick him up. The man being the ruler of his oil rich country could and did use diplomatic immunity for all his jets so there would be no passenger manifest or customs. Roger smiled as he thought of all the feds that would be searching for him as he flew above their heads in comfort.

As promised just before dawn the jet touched down and Roger quickly loaded his passengers on board. The next few minutes seemed to be the longest of his life as he waited for the plane to refuel and take off but he realized his fears where unnecessary as he felt it take to the air. As he sat back into his chair he realized with a yawn that it had been days since he had gotten a proper sleep. So with his job done he settled back and let him self-drift off in the nice warm cabin.

Roger woke with a smile as he felt the jet's wheels touch down. Thanks to the last few years of work he already had enough money to retire in luxury, but now with his franchises he would soon have enough money to buy anything. When the heat blew over he might even buy himself a country of his own Roger thought with a smile. Half an hour later Roger marveled at the splendor of the palace, every surface of every wall seemed to be screaming gay sex. When he made it to the throne room the Sultan met him with a smile "Roger how nice to meet you in person at last!" he said embracing the younger man.

"The pleasure is all mine your highness! I appreciate your kindness in helping me. I promise I won't impose on you hospitality top long," Roger said breaking the embrace as politely as possible.

"Nonsense my boy you are welcome to stay as long as you want! My home is your home my slaves are your slaves ... enjoy," the sultan said leading Roger through the door to his harem. Roger was overwhelmed. He had forgotten how many slaves he had sold the Sheik over the years. And seeing them all lying around the massive room was quite a sight.

"Thank you your highness! Your offer is very kind but as I have told you before young men may be my business but they are not my pleasure." Roger said with a smile.

"Yes I remember! A shame. I thought over the years your tastes might have changed. All that prime young boy ass at your command... but I see not! Pity ... Do you perchance remember this?" the Sultan said raising his hand and showing Roger a ring. Roger looked at it. Of course he remembered it he thought feeling a little strange. It was the ring he had used as a trigger to turn Salim into a little horny cocksucking fuck slave. The image of the young boy happily sucking his Uncle's cock filled his mind. The boy looked so happy there ... so at peace. He had no worries only the desire to serve.

Suddenly Roger envied not only the young prince but also all the boys that he had changed. They would never have to run or hide ... they were safe and loved. All they had to do, all they *wanted* to do, was serve their lord, there master. When the sultan told him that he too could serve Roger's heart filled with joy. He began to undress before falling to his knees in front of his Lord.

The sultan looked down at Roger naked at his feet and smiled. Such a trusting young man he thought with a sad smile. He hadn't even noticed the strongly sweet smell in the jet's cabin as he slept. When the word had gotten out that the FBI were on his trail many of Rogers customers had considered what would happen to them if he ever got caught and he talked. Roger was lucky he had found him first the sultan thought as he felt him self-growing hard. "Yes Roger you are very lucky!" the sheik said as he called Salim over. "Why don't you show Roger what I will expect from him my boy." He said with a smile.

He watched as the young prince lead Roger on all fours across the room where he had Jack and his four new slaves take Roger's ass one by one as Roger sucked the young prince's cock.

"A bit older than my usual tastes but we have been friends for so long I am willing to overlook that. And as for those love handles I wouldn't worry about that too much. We can always whip him into shape, can't we General?" the sultan said with a laugh as the Asian man stepped out of the shadows with his arms around two young naked boys.

"It will be a pleasure, your highness," the man laughed. "It is just a shame we have lost such a good supply of young slaves."

"Don't worry, General. My new slave was kind enough to tell me that he has taken steps to secure all the slaves you and the others will ever need." The sultan laughed watching the fun across the room. "Now if you will excuse me General I think I will show my nephew how I got my new toy." He rubbed his thumb across the ring as he walked across to the soon to the seven happy harem boys who would soon be pleasuring him.

The End


The original version of this story was authored by One Ring and remains copyrighted. This version was created by readers of the gay fiction website, the Narcissus Cursed Men Collection (the NCMC) (with 119 edits). This new version of the story is distributed under the Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 Creative Commons License.You must follow the conditions laid down in that license, or else you are forbidden by copyright law to duplicate this story in any form. This message is considered part of this work.

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