Date: Tue, 23 Dec 2008 12:49:34 -0500
From: James True <duncan_true@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Merchandise Part 1

This story is copyright 2008 by the author.

The following is a work of fiction, and it involves sexual situations
between men. The author appreciates any and all feedback about the story
and the events depicted, as well as the general subject matter of sexual
slavery.  I hope you enjoy the story.


The Merchandise Chapter 1


As the bus pulled into the Port Authority Bus Terminal, Jim's thoughts ran
back to what brought him to New York City. His childhood was not an unhappy
one, but it also was not a happy one. He was luckier than many kids he had
read about, but not as lucky as most of the kids he knew. He never knew his
father. When his mother told his father she was pregnant, he disappeared.
His mother chose to raise him on her own, until she met a man willing to
marry her. Jim's step-father turned out to be an alcoholic, though. When he
got drunk, he would sometimes hit his mother, and sometimes hit Jim if he
was not quick enough in fetching his beer. Last year, his mother finally
succumbed to the cancer that was making her weaker and weaker as time went
on. Cancer that was the result of years of smoking. When she died, Jim's
father became even more abusive towards him. His abuse was limited to
hitting Jim; his abuse never sank to sexual abuse, for which Jim was
thankful. His father was always happy enough to use the whores in town for
any sexual outlet.

Still, after his mother died, Jim decided he could no longer stand to live
in the same house as his step-father. His plan was to leave one day when
his step-father was in a drunken stupor. Jim saved the money he earned by
working on a neighbor's farm during the summers, and managed to save up a
few thousand dollars. But it was in a savings account his mother had once
set up for him. When he tried to close that account and withdraw the money,
the bank manager wanted to speak with his step-father, since Jim was only
17. Jim did not want his step-father to know anything about his plans, so
he simply told the bank manager that he would come back the next day with
his step-father. But he never did. He was able to withdraw a few hundred
dollars, however, without raising any flags.

So, with just a few hundred dollars, and a backpack filled with a few
changes of clothes, Jim left the house for the last time and walked to the
bus station in town and bought a ticket to New York City. Where better to
lose yourself than in a big city? Plus, Jim had the cockiness of a
teenager, and knew he had intelligence, and just knew he could become
successful in the big city. He had never been to New York before, nor knew
anyone who had. But he knew it was huge, and with plenty of opportunities
for someone willing to work hard. He also knew a few hundred dollars would
not last long there. He would quickly have to find a job. And, he knew, he
would have to survive on the streets of the city until he started to make
good. So, he wasn't just some dumb country hick. He knew the it would not
be easy, and that he would have to do things he may not enjoy in order to
succeed.

One thing he was counting on was his looks. He was a handsome kid, and he
knew it. His work on the farm gave him a well-defined, muscled body. He
also had a classic profile, strong chin, deep, clear blue eyes,
distinguished nose, well-behaved eyebrows, and curly blond hair. Every girl
in school wanted him, and he was more than willing to have every girl in
school. And a few boys wanted him as well, and he accommodated them as
well, by allowing them to give him blow jobs. He even fucked a couple of
the boys when they insisted. One boy wanted to fuck him, but this he would
not allow. He was not a fag. Fucking a few insistent boys and allowing them
to suck your cock does not make one a fag, Jim believed.

Jim knew that there were lots of fags in New York that would pay him for
the privilege of sucking his cock or to be fucked by him. But Jim did not
want to be a prostitute or hustler. He would find a real job, but to save
his money, he would find some fag who would take him in, feed him and house
him in exchange for his favors. Then, once he saved enough, he would leave
and move on to better things.

Jim wasn't so naïve as to not realize there were some problems with his
plans. For one, he had no idea how he would find a fag to take him in.
Hustlers, he knew, haunted places like bus terminals and gay bars. If he
were to hang out in those places, he would most likely only to find someone
who would pay him for a quick fuck, and not someone wanting to take him in.
And Jim was determined not to be a hustler living on the streets. Hustlers
were failures only interested in quick money. There was no future to
hustling. Jim knew that real success only came with time. He would devote
the time necessary to cultivate friendships with people who could help him
be a success. The only problem right now is finding such people.

It would take time, he realized. He also needed a job. But even if he found
a job that day, the few hundred dollars he had on him would not last until
his first payday. He was smart enough to realize that despite not wanting
to be a hustler, he just may have to hustle a few tricks until he found his
first "patron".

******

Paul got the call that morning. His boss needed him to obtain new
merchandise to sell to a wealthy client.

Paul was good at obtaining the special type of merchandise his boss
desired, but it was not always easy. Sometimes it took weeks to find just
the right piece that would satisfy his boss's clients, and even then, it
was not always easy to obtain. But he did know exactly what to look for,
and was good at obtaining it.

Fortunately for Paul, his boss paid a very nice finder's fee on the
merchandise he supplied. So nice, that Paul only had to actively look for
merchandise a few times each year. And it is enough to enable him to afford
this nice brownstone in Harlem. He had the entire building to himself. He
did not need to rent out apartments in it. Paul went up to the top floor to
make sure everything was ready to store the merchandise. It was. The entire
floor was one large room, and the windows were all covered, so no outside
light could get in.

So, on this morning Paul got dressed and headed out to start his
search. Paul's business dress was simple and casual...T-Shirt, jeans,
leather jacket, and boots. It also didn't matter that he had a bit of
stubble on his face...he believed that it helped him in obtaining
merchandise. Paul looked at himself in the mirror. "Not bad, if I do say so
myself." Paul looked much younger than his 43 years. Because he took care
of himself, he could easily pass for 30 or even 29. And because of the
exercise he got, he maintained the energy level that helped him pass for
much younger than he was.

Paul headed to the Port Authority Bus Terminal a block from Times
Square. That is where experience taught Paul he had the best chance of
finding what he was looking for. Paul wandered around the cavernous
terminal, just moseying around like someone waiting for his bus. He was
careful not to make himself too noticed...he did not need trouble with the
Port Authority police. He wandered into stores, and had a sandwich at one
of the fast food places. He avoided the public restrooms, as the PA police
always were checking them out.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Paul found what he thought was a
promising lead. He saw a boy with a backpack also just wandering around,
but instead of wandering as Paul did, as a man who legitimately was waiting
for a bus, this boy was wandering around as if lost. The boy looked 16,
wearing baggy pants buckled below the buttocks (as was the ridiculous
fashion among young punks, a look that Paul did not appreciate at all), a
long t-shirt, and sneakers. The boy had disheveled but curly dark-blond
hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in a while. But he did look
clean, which was a relief. And he had a classic look that would surely
bring a premium. The only problem was the baggy pants and shirt effectively
hid his body. The boy was at the display of bus schedules, leafing through
one schedule, then putting it back and taking another, but clearly not
really paying much attention to the schedules. Paul sized the kid up as a
possible run-away, someone who needed to find a friendly face in the big
city. It was perfect.

Paul approached the schedule rack and also picked up a bus schedule. He
casually said to the boy, "So, where are you heading?"

Jim was startled at first. He had been standing here a few minutes,
wondering what his first course of action in New York should be. He really
didn't expect anyone to come up and talk to him. He wondered if this was
some faggot looking to give him a blow job. Not quite sure how to react,
Jim put the schedule he was holding down, and lied, "Nowhere...just waiting
for someone."

Jim tried not to look directly at the man by him, but did want to try to
size him up. He looked decent enough; if he played his cards right, this
might be his ticket to a meal and a bed for the night.

"Yeah, me too," said Paul, also lying. Paul hated this part of the process,
this ridiculous banter. But he had to gain this kid's trust. "I had a
friend write me an email saying he was coming in on the 4 o'clock bus, but
neglected to tell me what day! Can you believe that? I haven't been able to
reach him to find out the day, so here I am. Looks like today is not the
day, so I'll have to come back tomorrow. I hate making a wasted trip down
here."

"Oh," Jim said, trying to sound disinterested. He felt it would be wrong to
appear too anxious, too eager to make a connection. He needed to be able to
turn this guy down if it should in any way look dangerous. This was the big
city, after all. Allowing a guy to give him a blow-job, or even fucking
this guy is one thing. But there was no way he would give this guy a
blow-job, or let him fuck his virgin hole.

"When's your friend due to come in?" asked Paul.

"Oh, not till later. I got here early."

"I see," replied Paul. "Hey, I'm hungry. I think I'll get a bite to eat
before heading back home. Care to join me while you wait? I would like
company. It's been a rough day for me. How about it?"

Jim hesitated. He was also hungry, not having eaten anything since the
greasy breakfast at the diner back at his hometown bus stop. But this guy
did not actually say he would treat him to food.

Paul wondered if he was moving too quickly. He didn't want to scare the boy
away. But if he was right, the boy would not take much convincing to join
him. Paul was sure the boy was a runaway from home (wherever that was), and
had limited funds with him. Plus, Paul figured the boy was playing him just
as much as he was playing the boy. So Paul added, "I'll treat."

With that, Jim's face lit up. This was easier than he thought. But was it
too easy? Jim decided that this faggot was attracted to his good looks, and
he was a New Yorker, after all, bold as anything. And he was also not bad
looking; at one point, Jim was afraid he might only attract fat old men,
and he wasn't sure he could get his cock up for fat old men. This guy, he
could probably work with. But he definitely did not want to appear too
eager, so in a hesitant voice he said. "Well, sure, why not?"

"Great," Paul said. Paul held out his hand and said, "By the way, the
name's Paul."

"Um, Jim," he replied, taking Paul's hand and shaking it.

"Okay, Jim. How about Subway? Sound good to you?"

"I guess," Jim replied.

"The shops outside the terminal serve better food for better prices," Paul
said as he led Jim outside the terminal. In reality, Paul did not want to
remain too long in the terminal with Jim, in case someone later should
remember them being together. "Don't worry. You'll be back in plenty of
time to meet your friend."

"Sure," was all Jim said. Now that he had made contact with someone wanting
to help him (at a price not yet mentioned, he suddenly realized), Jim was
nervous. But they would be eating in a public place, so what could go
wrong?

To be continued.

Comments about this story are greatly appreciated.