Chapter 177 - CHAPTER 5 - CURT FALLS INTO THE TRAP

As Curt sat back, relieved not to be walking in the hot humid sun anymore, they stared at him -drinking in is physical beauty without seeming to do so - and each inhaled his strong boyish sweat. They could barely wait until that nano second after they restrained him, to fully inspect every part of his sweaty body and to sniff out his sweaty musky scents that seemed to cover each part of it. To them it was like an abduction perfume that pushed their l.u.s.t for the boy past the point of no return. Not that they needed that. He was a marked man as soon as they saw him.

And little did he know that from the point they were driving up to him, to first talking to him outside the passenger window - and all the time he was in the van, he was being secretly videotaped. Crystal HD clear video fully miked to capture every sound for later use.

He also had no way of knowing that he had fallen into a trap, though not fully closed, with the odds increasingly stacked against him as every second went by. He did not know that that gas station attendant had sabotaged his car when he added special supplements to his radiator coolant, oil and gas that would guarantee the vehicle breaking down within 10 miles of the station down the highway.

Curt didn't know his every move - both outside the station - and inside the restroom was fully video taped and streamed to the guys in the van - and the others at the ranch facility. They saw everything - including his flaccid d.i.c.k pissing - and the brief moment of Curt stroking it and then sniffing his fingers. They thought it was so incredibly s.e.xy and e.r.o.t.i.c. The suggested shortcut route was also part of the plan - and as soon as Curt took it - as they knew he most likely would - the gas station attendant, as part of his real job, quickly called the guys in the van to look and pick up their new prey.

Meanwhile, once Curt jumped into the van and they took off, the gas station attendant, with a helper, located his broken down Toyota and towed it quickly back to the old gas station. The car was pushed into the large barn-like structure behind the gas station that served as a garage that they used to completely tear down and disassemble the vehicles of the boys they abducted. The disassembled pieces of the car was crushed together inside the giant garage into a cube and then later hauled away to the ranch, to be buried deep in a large pit. Not a trace would remain - or any trace that it broke down at the spot it was taken. For his reward the attendant -as he always did would receive $5,000 and later, have the opportunity to have two hours to do anything he wanted with Curt. But that was later.

The barn-like structure had several hidden rooms and underground chambers that were often used to also hold abducted young men temporarily. When they were held there, the gas station attendant had a first hand opportunity to torment them, loving especially to tickle torture the shit out of arrogant c.o.c.ky straight boys, and loving to edge and polish their f.u.c.k meats. He and the others who manned the barn-like structure were never allowed to f.u.c.k any of the boys held there temporarily - though on occasion if he did find a particularly good prey - he would be invited later to participate in a gang **** of that captive or one of the others captured. Curt was one of those he would have a chance at. He licked his lips and groped his crotch thinking of the boy. He was one handsome find. But then he remembered another boy was the same name - spelled differently. Kirk.

The old fat gas station attendant remembered with a smile a young guy about 27 or so, handsome, but nowhere in the league of the boys and young men his was paid to scout for. His name was Kirk. Originally from the UK, Kirk was thin though naturally toned with muscles, a flat stomach but no six pack, nicely displayed in a loose white t-shirt and jeans with a thick black belt. He wore wire framed glasses like a h.i.p.ster, that accented a nice looking cute smooth narrow jawed face topped with short brownish hair.

His car broke down at his station - the scout had nothing to do with that. This boy wasn't one of their targets for the "Facility". But he immediately liked what he saw, wondering how big the boy's c.o.c.k was, and assumed, being from the UK, that it was uncut.

The youth had an arrogant attitude and short temper - at least to the gas station attendant, in large part because the attendant wanted to provoke him, which he found easy to do and did so immediately, having already decided he would be abducted for his own personal fun.

The car made a sputtering loud noise and died completely in front of the gas station garage doors that were closed. Getting out of his two door car, the young man from the UK approached the gas station attendant, who was standing leaning against the gas pumps.

"You headed to that gay pride thing up north?" the gas station attendant asked the British young man, knowing - and hoping - that the boy probably wasn't gay, but correctly guessing the assumption he was gay would set him off.

"What??? What the f.u.c.k? I'm not gay!!!!" Kirk said in an almost angry voice to the attendant.

"Hmmm. Sorry. I just thought..." the gas station attendant replied back, smiling, sounding as if he didn't believe him.

Kirk glared back at him, furious, cutting him off.

"Well, you thought wrong!!! I don't want to waste anymore time here, okay? I need my car fixed. Or towed. Right now." he said in a rude voice.

The old fat gas station attendant loved the arrogant angry attitude of this young man, especially with his British accent. This was a boy whose attitude and body just begged to be tied up and tormented the attendant thought, l.i.c.k.i.n.g his lips, knowing the boy's fate was sealed. Keep it up, the attendant thought, I love your demanding arrogant attitude. He grew hard thinking how he and his partner would tie this c.o.c.ky youth up and make his arrogant voice hoarse with screams from tickle torture, non-stop edging and c.o.c.k polishing. He thought about how he would pull back the foreskin of this boy - he assumed he had one being from the UK - and would take glee in polishing that ultra s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e knob. He wouldn't stop and he surmised that Kirk would provide him and his partner with hours of healthy screams of a fit young man.

The gas station attendant told Kirk that the gas station had no one who could fix it or tow it.

"You're outa luck boy." he said almost in a joking way, grinning.

The gas station attendant kept provoking the boy, wanting a reaction, with continued indifferent responses, sounding like a very bad airport security officer.

"What the f.u.c.k???? What kind of f.u.c.k.i.n.g gas station is this????" Kirk yelled, angry at the old man's attitude.

The gas station attendant liked the boy's British accent even more as he got more demanding and angry. It gave the boy a sort of naive arrogant sense of entitlement that the gas station attendant found both amusing and e.r.o.t.i.c. Amusing because it was just a matter of time now that he would be pounced on and tied up. E.r.o.t.i.c because it built up a huge d.e.s.i.r.e in the gas station attendant and his partner to punish and torment the UK youth as a consequence, wanting to see his reactions after he was stripped n.a.k.e.d against his will. The gas station attendant finalized his decision to capture this boy. While Kirk wasn't the right looking guy for what he was paid to scout for, the UK youth was just right for him and his partner, who also worked at the gas station.

They would have fun with the boy in the barn-like structure and then dispose of him a few days later by selling him to a trio of mountain type men who they had done business with before. It wasn't a business that his benefactors, who paid him handsomely to be a scout, would like. But it wasn't something he told them about. It was his business and personal p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e and they had no control over this personal pursuits, or so he thought.

While lost for a few seconds in those thoughts, the old fat gas station attendant returned his attention back to the UK young man who grew even more angry and arrogant. The youth cursed out the gas station attendant after he refused to let the boy use his phone to make a call for a tow truck. The youth's cell phone wasn't working.

"Not my problem asshole," the old fat attendant told the angry young man, deliberately provoking him further, loving his reaction - knowing he would soon make him pay dearly for it.

Angry, Kirk decided to walk several miles back up to the freeway, cursing at the gas station attendant. Meanwhile, the station's other worker, a large hulking middle aged man, came up slowly behind the youth. The youth turned quickly around, and muttered "what the f.u.c.k do you want???"

As he turned, the old fat gas station attendant came quickly to the boy, grabbing him and throwing him down the ground as he yelled and fought furiously. The gas station attendant, despite his age and girth, was surprisingly - to the youth - strong. The other worker kneeled down, and quickly put a heavy cloth, soaked with chloroform, and after a minute or so, knocked the boy out.

They carried the boy into their large truck and brought him into the barn-like structure, groping at his bulge and c.h.e.s.t, giggling all the way with excitement. The partner towed Kirk's broken down car into the barn-like structure, while the fat old gas station attendant dragged and then carried the boy into one of the sound proofed side rooms. He tied the boy up to a St. Andrew's type cross, using leather cuffs and rope. The passed out was now spreadeagle on the cross and helpless.

The gas station attendant loved the moment Kirk woke up, startled, bewildered and then furious. He loved how straight boys always made demands when they were helpless like that. The youth from the UK was no different and in fact seemed even more arrogant and demanding. The cursing from the boy was unbelievable and highly e.r.o.t.i.c for the gas station attendant and his partner who now rejoined him.

"WHAT THE F.U.C.K????!!!! LET ME THE F.U.C.K GO RIGHT NOW!!!!" he yelled.

They stared at the boy, and then proceeded, without answering him, to rip strip every piece of his clothes off his body, using their hands, and scissors, as he yelled even louder, furious at what they were doing.

"NO!!! WHAT THE F.U.C.K??? SHIT!!! STOP!!!! STOP!!! GET THE F.U.C.K AWAY!!!!" Kirk screamed at them, trying to twist and turn his tightly tied up lean body.

When they got to his boxers, they each pulled at the waist band, ripping it to shreds, exposing his limp uncut five inch c.o.c.k and walnut sized balls hidden in a tight ball sack. He had a nice halo of brownish hairs above his c.o.c.k that also dusted his balls and the sides of his sides - and down his legs. He was beautiful - though no where in the league of Curt or the others they targeted in their scouting. But he was beautiful enough for the gas station attendant and his partner. They would feast on his lean twinkish body.

Kirk cursed at them, screaming, calling them faggots, homos, queers and demanded to let him go. Loving his British accent, they grinned back at him like hyenas and instantly assaulted his body - every inch, with their tongues, mouths, hands and fingers. His ears were drilled with fingers, tongues and nibbled by their teeth. His small pinkish dark n.i.p.p.l.es were s.u.c.k.e.d and pulled as he yelped and cursed at them. They each took turns swallowing whole his entire c.o.c.k, and then balls, s.u.c.k.i.n.g and then edging the shaft slowly to full hardness with their hands and fingers, using generous amounts of lube. The boy from the UK could not believe guys - especially faggots as he called them - were making him hard against his will. What the f.u.c.k he yelled and cursed at them even more as his impressive 7 inch hard d.i.c.k waved back and forth.

They tickled torture the boy without mercy, after polishing the head of his d.i.c.k over and over for hours. After hours of edging they made him c.u.m against his will - still defiant, still cursing at them, but in disbelief he shot his load. But it wasn't done for him. They continued stroking his shaft and polishing the knob, using his hot spooge as lube as the boy - who never before experienced post-o.r.g.a.s.m tormenting - now experienced it by two sadists who would never stop. Over and over until he got hard again and shot another load. More post-o.r.g.a.s.m c.o.c.k polishing as he screamed and cursed. More tickle torture of his pits, sides and torso and feet as he descended into shrieks of laughter, more cursing and finally breaking down into sobs.

They each f.u.c.k.e.d his v.i.r.g.i.n tight a.s.s, the fat gas station attendant taking his cherry slowly as Kirk, the boy from the UK, screamed from the awful pain. It was pure music to his tormentors, who r.a.p.ed the boy's v.i.r.g.i.n a.s.s - no longer v.i.r.g.i.n - over and over through the night, slapping his milky white asscheeks. They shoved their fingers into his tight clenching hole, exploring it thoroughly, finding and then rubbing his prostate without mercy as Kirk struggled desperately, yelling. To his shock and dismay, the rubbing of his prostate caused his straight boy uncut c.o.c.k to lengthen and swell again, and within moments, shoot another load against his will as he yelled out in a babble of gibberish and cursing that ended in a sob. They kept up the rubbing of his prostate and then rubbed and polished his ultra s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e c.o.c.khead, wet with his s.p.e.r.m. Kirk's eyes rolled back as his body thrashed, shrieking. The sensation was too much.

The boy's ordeal last two full days of endless tickle torture, raping of his a.s.s, endless edging and post-o.r.g.a.s.m tormenting of his knob. They shoved increasingly larger dildos up his tight a.s.s, including a 20 inch huge dildo that vibrated. They tormented him with electro torture on his balls and c.o.c.k, and then a metal probe attached to the electro unit, causing him to shriek. They spent hours on and off using pinwheels everywhere on Kirk's lean tormented body.

His defiance was finally broken, though he still resisted somewhat. He was sold to three mountain men named Georgie, Elias and Jonas and taken away. What they did to him, the old fat gas station attendant later learned, was even worse what they had done. He smiled at that memory and wished he could have been there at their large cabin in the mountains to witness that arrogant UK boy being tormented by those three huge mountain men. He promised himself that he would visit them to see how Kirk was doing - and maybe have another chance at tormenting him.

The old fat gas station attendant smiled again at the memory, adjusting and then groping his crotch again before returning back into the station office.

Curt of course knew none of that - and would have been truly horrified if he did.

The guys in the van continued to act in a way to totally disarm Curt - though some of their actions aroused some unspoken curious thoughts in the boy.

After seeing Curt shirtless and sweating from the intense humid heat outside, they offered him an unopened can of beer. Curt saw that they were all drinking beer from cans and briefly thought it was weird that religious guys like these were drinking like this - they definitely weren't Mormons he thought.

But that thought vanished quickly as he got comfortable seating in the air conditioned van, his aching muscles relaxing finally after walking so long. He was thirsty and reached for the can of beer, discreetly noting that the ice cold container was new and unopened. He eagerly opened the can, without further hesitation, and gulped it down in two swallows and forgetting for a second where he was he gave a loud frat boy burp. He suddenly remembered who he was with. His handsome face growing red with embarrassment, Curt apologized for the gulping of his beer and the loud burp to his new found friends explaining he was so thirsty after walking in the heat. They all laughed and told him not to worry - they understood, one or two of them briefly touching him on his b.a.r.e sweaty shoulder and knee in a friendly way. They offered him another beer, which he eagerly accepted, again discreetly checking to see it was unopened and drank it - though a little slower than the first.

What Curt didn't know was that each can in the special cooler (for their prey only - they drank from cans coming already out), had a pinhole where a liquid form of roofies was put into the drink via a syringe. Not enough to totally knock him out - but to immobilize him completely. When he finished the beer, the boy clearly was buzzed - more so than he would be from just drinking one beer.

Curt drank up the second and put the empty can down. He burped quietly covering his mouth this time, smiling lazily, wanting to actually nap. He didn't realize how tired he was from the walking and the heat and the previous 1-1/2 hour of driving he did before his car broke down.

The guys in the van started asking Curt several standard questions of who he was and what he did and where he was going. Nothing at this point that would arouse any concern or suspicion on the part of Curt.

Though getting tired and feeling more and more buzzed from the beers, Curt talked a bit about his background, saying he played baseball and wrestled and modestly said he was pretty good at both. He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing them wit his hands and then running his right hand through his hair as if to help him feel more alert. He opened his eyes and smiled back at the guys sitting next to him and across from him.

"Yeah, well, you got the build still for it." Daniel said to him as nonchalant and casual as possible to make it sound that he - and the others - were not s.e.x.u.a.lly attracted to his body.

But he said it - and Curt took it - as a form of obvious admiration. He was after all wearing only a t-shirt that was damp with his body sweat so that anyone could see almost through the tight fabric that clung to his torso and arms. He clearly had a nice muscled athletic body. He was proud of his body - and looks - and part of his arrogance was that he expected those compliments.

"Hey man, thanks. Yeah...well...I try to keep in shape still," Curt said blushing a little, smiling with a hint of conceit and pride.

They knew from previous experience in abducting their many victims that they had to be careful about talking about a guy's build or looks that could arouse suspicion or put their guard up. The drug still had a few minutes more to take effect - and until then, he could still fight back and maybe get lucky and somehow successfully resist them.

Curt didn't realize that he had just minutes before his freedom would be gone.

The guys in the van all liked toying with their prey - saying things that would hint on their true intent - and seeing how slow it would take for their prey to catch on. They never did - until it was too late. But it was still - for the guys - part of the thrill of stalking and final abduction.

They were close to that point - very close.

Bobby, suddenly moved from one side of the van to sit to the right side of Curt . At 6 feet 5 inches he was taller than Curt but a much smaller build that, with the baggy hoodie and jeans looked more bones than any muscle. The baggy clothes actually hid a muscular frame that could - strength-wise be a match to Curt's.

Curt only saw a very tall skinny guy who had the personality that seemed like the obnoxious nerdy types from high school and college that he had no d.e.s.i.r.e or reason to have any contact with. Now he was forced to. And now Bobby's t.h.i.g.h and legs touched Curt, in what looked like an innocent move - though Curt immediately shifted his b.u.t.t and body over to immediately break the contact as if his body was touched by an exposed live electric wire.

Curt wasn't sure - and his mind was getting foggy from being tired and the heat he assumed - but he thought he caught Bobby staring at his crotch very intently with that sort of glint in a person's eyes that usually meant intense interest.

Though the alcohol was creating a growing warm buzz that started to make him a little dizzy and tired, Curt quickly moved his own hands so it rested covering his crotch. though he tried to act as if it was just a natural shifting of his body.

Curt, even with his mind in a haze he didn't like other guys - especially nerdy ones - sitting so close and staring at his junk, even if he was wearing u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r and jeans. He remembered for a brief second that guy upstairs where he lived for the past year, who took all those nasty pictures and videos of him and stared at him just like how Bobby was doing now.

"Girls must be at your f.u.c.kin door all the time" Bobby said in a worshipful manner, leaning toward Curt and putting his hand on his right bicep, squeezing it lightly a couple of times, marveling at its size and feel.

The touching - though done at first in a seemingly "guy type" locker-room way of comparing muscles - made Curt feel instantly uncomfortable. Bobby's fingers seemed to stay on his muscle and arm several seconds longer than what Curt thought would be normal for another male to just to compare, feeling invasive and it made him feel creepy. The other guys in the van didn't try to touch him or stare at him like Bobby as far as he could tell (though they did when he wasn't looking). Curt, in a quick reflex move, pulled his arm away to abruptly break off the touching. He hoped Bobby or the others wouldn't notice how fast he pulled his arm away.

"Uh...er...yeah..thanks. Yeah, well...what can I say?" Curt said in a forced joking way, feeling more buzzed and tired and feeling slightly uncomfortable with Bobby sitting just inches away.

He closed his eyes for a second, another strong warm buzz feeling overtaking him, and then, eyes still closed, smiled knowingly putting out his hand with a thumbs up chuckling.

To his relief, Bobby didn't try to touch him again and Curt wrote the whole thing off to just envy, given how slight Bobby's build - though he had to be several inches taller than me Curt thought.

Curt shut out for a second Bobby's creepy like stares and more invasive type personal questions (like how many girls did he sleep with, how many at one time) trying to cut off further questions with a reply "oh man...many....if the price was right," with his bottom lip curled Clinton-like trying to act like he was joking. He closed his eyes again, turning his head from Bobby trying to signal an end to the conversation. He was getting more annoyed with Bobby invading his personal space physically and with his non-stop intimate questions.

He had no choice, he thought, but to humor this guy and his "new friends" until they got to the next town. He decided definitely that he would find other means of help when they got there and would get away fast from these guys, especially Bobby. Still, Curt didn't fear any of the guys in the van - he was just annoyed and creeped out by Bobby and to a lesser extent by the others

Curt closed his long lashed eyes again briefly to block out the fawning looks of Bobby. Bobby, inhaled the heavy pungent scent of Curt's body - his manly sweat and other odors that intoxicated him - and the others - with growing l.u.s.t. This boy was too f.u.c.kin beautiful, s.e.xy, and - arrogant they all thought. Yeah, they would soon correct that attitude.

But for now Bobby, who was really infatuated with Curt's body and personality beyond his job to abduct good-looking straight boys, was also playing the role that he always was designated to do: provoke and tease their prey just a little bit to make him feel slightly creeped out and uncomfortable while the others acted "normal".

"You know, after being out there so long in the heat, do you want to change into some other pants you have? You can change in the back there (pointing to the back of the van, where the doors were locked and had no windows). You'd feel better," Bobby said to Curt that sounded borderline creepy but didn't quite cross that line. His jeans were damp with his sweat and he did feel uncomfortable.

But to Curt it was just a little weird for another guy to be worried about that. He had to be a faggot Curt thought or maybe he and the others just talked creepy like that because of their religious shit or something. But no way he was going to change in front of these guys. He could only imagine how Bobby would just stare at that happening - and then for a second, the memory of that neighbor below him stalking him and taking pictures and videos of him shirtless and n.a.k.e.d flashed in Curt's mind. No way he was taking his jeans off in front of these weird guys, even if he left his u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r on, which he was sure Bobby would suggest he also change. F.u.c.k that, I need to get away from these losers as soon as we hit town Curt thought.

"Uh...thanks. Naw...I'm okay. Really. I'll change when I get to town.." Curt said, wishing Bobby would get away from him.

Bobby stopped talking for a second, asking Daniel a question about some religious outing (which Curt didn't know was a charade for his benefit). Curt, his mind getting more fogged by the alcohol, eyes again closed, was just thankful for the brief respite in Bobby's questions.

Bobby's intimate questions though did trigger in Curt thought s about all those hot girls flocking to him all the time, especially when he lived in that apartment complex for the past year. Even several older women, several of whom were married. Hey, he f.u.c.k.e.d a few of them too when the mood struck. There were an endless number of s.e.x texts, voice mails, emails, cell phone pics and videos from girls who wanted to be with him or service him in some way.

He remembered how he often took them up on it - a quick blow job or f.u.c.k, though the blow jobs were never totally satisfactory and would never get him off. It was always something to have done to him before f.u.c.k.i.n.g a girl. But he was always in control - determining like the Stud God he felt he was - what they would do to him s.e.x.u.a.lly and how long the s.e.x would last.

Curt always felt so horny and thought he was so desirable to so many available good looking chicks that he knew he could set and enforce those rules. If he wanted to get to the f.u.c.k.i.n.g, then that was what happened. If he got off first, then it ended. His d.i.c.k was always too s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to continue being touched, so he always stopped, hugged the girl or woman and then got up to put his u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r back on to signal they were done. And that was it - except one time when he had s.e.x with two girls at once - and they held him down for just a few seconds to stroke his c.o.c.k after he came. That drove him crazy and he pushed them off quickly getting mad at both of them.

He mentioned , of course, none of that to the guys in the van.

The guys all now just stared at this Adonis sitting right before them leaning against the side of the rocking van as it raced down the road, falling under his masculine spell and at the same time also resenting his arrogance and c.o.c.kiness and looks. Qualities they felt they didn't have. They knew they would, as they had done before with their other victims , soon correct that imbalance with this boy. They figured this was a c.o.c.ky straight boy who never was in a position where he had no control of his body. That would change. Forever. And very soon.