Date: Fri, 7 Mar 2008 09:56:30 -0700
From: Luc Milne  <lucmilne@telus.net>
Subject: Meat Scout 2

Copyright 2008 by Luc Milne.  <lucmilne@telus.net> All rights reserved.
One copy may be downloaded for personal use.

MEAT SCOUT 2

"My First Buy"

I started with The Pleasure Corporation when I was 21 and just out of
university.  I had taken a Bachelor's degree in marketing and sales in the
Business School, so I understood, in theory at least, the principles of
supply and demand and the mechanics of buying and selling, no matter what
the product.  One of my professors asked me if I would like to take an
interfiew with an "entertainment" conglomerate.  Thinking I might end up
working for some multimedia organization marketing films and CDs, and
planning advertising campaigns for Las Vegas casinos, I readily agreed.

The professor knew that I was open to offers from the wilder side of the
business world, because he'd offered to suck my cock one afternoon in his
office and I'd opened my fly and porked his mouth before he'd finished
speaking.  Later, after introducing me to various joys of mansex, he began
to have "seminars" in his office with one or two other profs and a few
graduate students who thoroughly turned me out and made me into the
cocksucking, assfucking sado/maso expert I am today.

It didn't take long for me to understand just what The Pleasure
Corporation's business really was, and I knew from the beginning that it
was the place for me.  They started me out as a simple Meat Scout in the
Procurement Division: that meant that I had no responsibility for actually
buying or acquiring manmeat, only for sniffing out prime flesh and passing
the information on to the professional procurers.

I spent a lot of pleasant hours in locker rooms of gyms and men's athletic
clubs making mental notes of the swingingest dicks and the juciest buns
available: the tricky part of the job was finding out names and work or
home addresses to give to the "buyer".  (I use the word loosely, since a
lot or procurement involved more than just "buying"--seduction, entrapment,
blackmail, and abduction may also be involved.)  I was also given the names
of school and college coaches who were clients of various Pleasure
Corporation branches: these men were often willing to let me visit their
locker rooms as well, under the guise of being a sports scout for some
professional team.  That way I got to examine the meat up close.  The same
applied to prison guards, cops, and members of the military police
forces--users of Pleasure Corporation services, who were willing to let a
scout have a look at the men and boys being stripped down and examined
before being put in jail or in the brig.  Once a prisoner with prime meat
was identified, it was up the the procurers to make deals with the Wardens
and higher officers for the release of the flesh into Corporation custody
and control.

As time went by, I became more than a simple scout: I was also sent out to
examine and evaluate goods being offered by slavers and other suppliers who
had merchandise to sell; eventually I was allowed to meet with private
suppliers--fathers, uncles, guardians, or other family members who had boys
and young men they wanted to sell or lease to us for training.  Finally
after three years of thie apprenticeship, I was made a Junior Procurer and
given the power to actually purchase meat or arrange for its acquisition by
some other means.  I had a fund from which I could draw money for cash
sales, and I had access to the Corporation's "heavy squad" for procurements
which required force or actual kidnaping.

I remember that my first actual purchase was a young kid being offered by
his father for hard cash and no "buy-back" option once the boy was trained.
(Sometimes a guy will sell us a son or nephew with the proviso that they
can buy him back for their own use after training and a specified time of
service.)  The man had been "vetted" by The Corporation to make sure that
he was not a "plant" or part of a sting operation: it turned out that he
was a paid-up member of Boy Suckers International and a regular customer of
the Boys to Go delivery service.

I went to the address given--a medium sized house in a Los Angeles suburb,
and was led into a teenager's bedroom--rock posters on the walls, computer,
ipod, gamebox, racks of cd's and dvd's, jockey shorts and sweatsocks
scattered, and skin mags peeking out from under the bed.  The kid was tied
to the unmade bed on his back, wrists and legs spread wide, with a sock gag
in his mouth.  He was mad as hell and glared at me as his father offered to
sell him for an outrageous price.  He appeared to be completely "wild"
meat--i.e. unused--and his father assured me that he had never laid a hand
on the boy.  Apparently he preferred to have his boy burgers and teen
sausage delivered from Boys to Go rather than eat what was in the cupboard
at home.  But, from the way he licked his lips whever he looked down at the
kid's crotch I had a feeling that he'd had a least a snack of that eight
inches of swelling teenage cock.

As I looked the boy over, I realized the significance of a photo hanging on
the wall above his desk: a swim team of some sort, showing boys in speedos
lined up for what looked like a high school annual team picture.  There, in
the front row, hands tucked behind him thrusting out his well-formed pecs,
his slim but muscular legs spread wide in a defiant stance, was this boy on
the bed.  The caption beneath the picture said "Water Polo Squad" with the
date.  Looking back at the prime boyflesh tied down for my inspection I saw
that his chest had that Y-shaped spread of a swimmer with nipples that
looked as if they could be vacu-pumped up to a mouth-filling succulence.

I stayed about half an hour, dickering down the price, fingerfucking the
punk's virgin ass and sampling some sweet teen precum at the same time.  It
was just the kind of meat the Corporation wants--versatile, fresh, and
capable of being trained for any one of the several divisions: as a
creamteat for the Milk Farms, as a fuckboy in the brothels or at the Fuck
Corrals of the S/M Ranches, as a "nutboy" (he had ripe, crackable nuts) in
the cocktail lounge of a Cock and Ball Restaurant, or just as a desireable
lot at one of the Corporation's high-end slave auctions.  The man eagerly
offered to pull a load of cum out of the kid so I could see how much
joyjuice he was capable of producing, but I passed on the offer because it
was pretty clear that this boy would make a fine milk cow if that was what
The Corporation decided his fate should be.

I questioned the father about the reasons for the sale: it turned out the
mother had vanished with some other guy and the man was selling up and
moving to a new town to begin afresh: the money from the sale of his son's
meat would help him with start-up funds.  It was June, the end of a school
year, so no one from the boy's high school would think it odd that he had
"moved away".  I didn't bother to ask the boy's name because I knew that
all "units"--the official Corporation term for acquired flesh--were renamed
during processing.  Finally, having arrived at a decent price, I paid the
father his cash and we carried the kid out to the garage and loaded him
into my van, where we tied him down to the bed in the back.

As I was driving back to the transfer terminal at the airport--the boy was
going to be sent to an Arizona processing and training centre--I suddently
realized that I had made my first purchase of a human being, and that for a
short time that purchase was completely mine to do with as I wanted.  I
pulled over into a shopping mall parking lot, found a secluded spot under
some shade trees at the very edge of the area and stopped.  I crawled into
the back of the van and spent over an hour feasting on the kid.

I rimmed his sweet ass until he shuddered and shot a load of cum three feet
into the air.  Then I licked the hot stuff off his torso, chewing on his
rosy tits and nipping at the tender skin between his taut thighs.  I
gobbled his balls and jacked his meat until he shot another load of
cum--this time directly down my throat.  I fucked his cherry ass--not hard,
because I didn't want to do any damage--but just long enough to get my own
nut off.  I turned him over, crawled up his chest and blasted my wad onto
his face, then slobber-licked it off, while he groaned and cursed behind
his gag.  I rubbed my still-leaking dick all over that handsome face,
making it slick and shiny with after-cum.  I wasn't foolish enough to stick
my prick into an untried, angry teenager's mouth, but I rubbed my wet
cumlips into his nostrils, giving him a good scent of the stuff he was
going to spend a lifetime smelling and eating and shooting.  Finally, I
took my still half-hard dick and used it as a bludgeon on his own swollen
shaft and heavy balls, "beating his meat" in ways he'd never imagined.  I
held his shaft in my fist, squeezing it hard so his cockhead swelled up,
red and ripe, then slammed my limber cock down hard and repeatedly against
his gaping cumlips.  His third shoot was mostly "dry", but there was just
enough boyjuice to give me one final taste of my first "buy".

I've never had another purchase that was quite so satisfying. although,
like all scouts and procurers, I often have to "test" the merchandise
before buying.

One of my fellow scouts once asked my why I don't use the "employee
discount" to buy a slaveboy of my own from The Corporation.  I had thought
about it, but then realized that I wouldn't want a single piece of flesh to
use over and over again.  In my work I've gotten to crave variety--new
cocks every day to fondle and suckle--and new purchases to sample before
they get pulled into the system of the Pleasure Corporation's "processing"
schools and "enhancement" labs.

Incidentally, I met the kid again, by chance, while I was spending some
leisure time at the southwest Big Game Preserve--getting in a little
man-hunting between long afternoons spent around the Lodge's pool, being
serviced by the wet mouths of the pool boys.  One morning I ordered
breakfast served in my room, and when the waiter arrived with a cart
delivering my scrambled eggs, brown toast, hash-browns, orange juice, and
all the rest, I saw that the boy attached by a neck leash to the handle of
the cart was, in fact, my very first purchase--the water polo kid.  The
waiter asked if I would like some hot boybutter on my toast or some
boycream in my coffee.  I told him to leave the kid with me--that I was
happy to do my own milking.

When the waiter left, I asked the kid if he recognized me.  He looked at me
for a moment and said, "Yes, Sir, you're the man who bought me from my
dad."

I told him that he was looking good: his cock had been enhanced to a thick
ten inches of swollen boymeat and his balls had been stretched and enlarged
so they hung invitingly below the moist helmet head of his dick.  His tits,
as I had imagined they would be, were pumped to the size of strawberries
and looked as if they got a lot of greedy chewing by the guests.  I spooned
a little honey on each of them and ate it off voraciously while I explored
his body with my hands.  I told him to turn around and saw that his butt
cheeks were even rounder and firmer than when I'd bought him.  I spread
them and rubbed cherry jam from the breakfast tray onto the pink rosebud,
poking some of the sweet stuff deep into the hole with my fingers.  Then I
licked his ass-cleft clean, digging down into his pucker to get the jam
out.  I reached around and felt that his cock had swollen even longer and
fatter: a squeeze on his balls made them quiver uncontrollably and his
well-defined six-pack began to heave with excitement.

This boy had been well trained by the labs and was a delectable cum
fountain ready to be tapped.  I grabbed his cockshaft hard in one fist and
thumbed his protruding cocklips firmly until he began to spew his cream.
There was enough to flavour my eggs, spice up my coffee, and butter my
toast as well.  I sucked out the last sweet drops, then used the massive
head of his penis to spread the cum over my bread, and stir my warm coffee.
While I ate, I made him get under the table and lick my cock and balls.  As
he slobbered and tongue-stroked me, he answered my questions about his life
with The Corporation.

His name was, appropriately, Polo, and he was being trained as a luxury
pleasure slave for eventual sale to a private harem or exclusive sex club.
He wasn't used as one of the prey animals for hunters at the Game Preserve,
but did serve as "refreshment boy" along the hiking trails.  He would be
tied to a tree, or bent over a log along the trail to be sucked or fucked
by hikers who were taking a day off their hunting schedules.  In addition
to being a Room Service Milkboy he was undergoing further enhancements in
the labs.  His throat was being conditioned for extreme deep probing by
massive meat and his semen production was being increased to a maxiumum
level of about 8 to 12 ounces in every 24 hour period.  When he was finally
offered for auction on the luxuy slave market he would probably bring a
price of about a half-million dollars.

I checked his mouth and throat capacity by stuffing my cock and both my
balls into his face before choking him on my heavy cum.  He swallowed it
all and his gag muscles continued milking my corona for a long, satisfying
after-suck.

After he crawled out from under the table and stood with his legs spread
and his crotch thrust forward for any more pleasure I wanted to take from
his meat, I asked if he'd ever heard from his father.  He said no, but that
once when he was being used as a menu item on the Boys to Go service for
Boy Suckers International, he had a client who insisted that he be
delivered to a house bound, gagged, blindfolded, and with plugs in his
ears.  While I idly squeezed his nuts and squeeze-milked his prick, he
described how the man had eaten his cock and balls savagely for about three
hours, and that during the ordeal he had the feeling that he knew the man's
"touch".  He said he thought it was his father, because the guy was gnawing
and mouth-pulling at his penis just like his father had done before I
arrived on the day he was sold.

I told him him if that was true, it was probably just as well that he'd
been sold, because if he'd stayed with his dad he might not have a cock and
balls left by now.  He laughed and started to say something else, but by
then the image of his father chewing away in his crotch like a dog with a
juicy bone made me so hot I took his ripe moist cockhead in my mouth and
roughed sucked it until he began to pant and whine.  I got his balls in
both my fists and pumped them hard, as I mercilessly gnawed at his cumlips
until a hot fountain of semen gushed into my mouth and flowed down my
gulping throat. He staggered and seemed about to fall, so I pulled off his
meat, pushed him down to his knees, took his head between my hands and
pressed his gasping mouth down on my meat. masturbating my long thick cock
with his throat until I fed him one more load. Afterwards I spent a long
time with one hand on his throat and my other hand gripping my limber meat,
cockwhipping his pretty face until it was sticky and slick with the
after-juice of my lust.

I hope some middle eastern oil billionaire is getting good use out of him
and feeding him all the arab semen he can eat.

End of Part 2