"The Boys in the Box" by Jackson Blooms

Story By @Violet-JC-Bloom

Finally the men I provide are, almost without exception, heterosexual. I of course hold no prejudice against homosexuals; I'm a gay man myself, as are most of my clients! But years of experience have taught me that most of my clients prefer straight boys, and I find that they do make much better slaves in the long run. A slave spends a significant amount of its life providing sexual service to its master, and a straight slave is naturally able to focus solely on pleasing its master whereas a gay slave may become distracted by its own arousal. Psychologically, of course, the men who purchase these young bucks must derive some extra pleasure in holding absolutely power over the body of a formerly free straight jock. I do process and sell the occasional homosexual, but it's an exception rather than a rule.

There are any number of other criteria that go into choosing new product, some of which are so subliminal and instinctual that I, by now an old hand at my trade, couldn't even fully articulate. But I imagine it's best to allow you to learn by hearing about my most recent acquisitions. I imagine as well that you're curiosity about just what exactly is The Box.

2.

The Box is a retrofitted semi-trailer, a forty-eight footer I bought in cash at a foreclosure auction about ten years ago. I spent the better part of a year turning it from an empty crate into the honey pot it is today. Part carnival game, part cargo transport, it spends most of the year empty floating around the Pacific and Indian Oceans inside one of hundreds of anonymous shipping containers on giant cargo barges. Early in the summer I pick it up at port in San Francisco, hitch it to my tractor unit, and head to one of the thousands of county fairs happening in small towns all across our great nation. I park The Box close enough to the fairgrounds to ensure a that there will be occasional foot traffic but not so close as to attract too much attention or to be visible to any security cameras (not that there are usually security cameras at county fairs, but it seems like there are more of them every year, and video of an eighteen-year-old boy walking into my trailer unit and never coming out could certainly raise red flags.) Ideally I like to find an area off a backroad, some place a guy might sneak off to to smoke a joint or drink an illicit beer.

The exterior of The Box is fitted with three-hundred-sixty degree video surveillance. When someone trips my motion detectors, a custom app I pings my iPhone, along with a video feed of my new quarry. If he seems to meet my criteria, and - equally important - no one else is around, I'll press the "on" button and The Box will go into action. Lights flash and an old school carnival barker's voice (your truly; I was a struggling actor before I got into a more lucrative business) cries out:

"You there, young man! Do you have what it takes to Beat The Box? Only twenty five cents to try your luck! Make it out of The Box and win $100!"

When the boy invariably walks up the metal steps to the back of the trailer - only one in, maybe, twenty walks away - he is greeted with a door. The door has a small video screen in at eye level, with a coin slot for a quarter next to it (I litter the ground in all directions with quarters, figuring a mark who might not have one on him will almost certainly have bent down to pick one up nearby.) Once the coin is inserted, the screen lights up and asks the easiest question I could imagine.

WHAT IS TWO PLUS TWO?

Next to the screen is a number pad. I actually doesn't matter what the guy answers - you'd be surprised at the error rate in some of these hick towns! As long as the a key is pressed, the door slides open into a small black room. As soon as the boy enters, a pressure plate beneath the floor activates and the door slides shut behind him, leaving him trapped. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate the room, giving my high definition video feed a chance to really size him up. Usually my instincts are right, and he's a worthwhile acquisition. Rarely I miss the mark, realize my error, and begin the ejection mechanism. A video screen in the wall presents an impossible puzzle with a thirty second timer, and when he fails to solve it, the door behind him slides back open.