Going Niche (Complete Story) [Bonus Material Added 8/29/23]

[Wrestlejock646]

2 hours ago, HawkShark said:

... or perhaps generally the plight of the Belters (and generic earthers) in The Expanse... 

As always thanks for the thought provoking and incredibly hot storytelling @TQuintA!

I would LOVE to see Amos as a pleasure boy! 

[Ripped]

2 hours ago, HawkShark said:

Let's hope @Ripped is wrong and Olivia writes the kind of expose that really rankles the masses. 

Her being kinda the Upton Sinclair of this world, eh? 

[Ro20316]

4 hours ago, TQuintA said:

, “I can’t afford steak on what they pay in the labor forces.  A steak once a month?  That’s some high-class, ritzy shit.”

It's a cruel world they live in. They chose what was better for them no matter what.. I bet if u ask some of those labor force workers they would say working in there has a perk and that is being free. They go outside, they have families, they smell freshj air, they live a life outside work place and that's a huge thing compared to the boys and girls that choose to be pleasure people.

There is  ALOT that needs to  change but one journalist wont do the job. I hope she somehow she and others exposes not only what is happening at Tartarus but what is happening in the different pleasure houses and the condition the guys and girls live in. The condition the labor forces and many other legacies that are unfair to the people.

Hell i would even read a story  about someone trying to change all of that. It would be great.

Im invested in this world. 

[IronandGold]

12 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

Hell i would even read a story  about someone trying to change all of that. It would be great.

I was just thinking how this was going from muscle fantasy to hunger games. How hot would that be with Nile Slate and Onyx as the mains?

[TQuintA]

Chapter 43

            “Is this true?” Mark asked me at our next session.  In front of my face, he was holding his tablet prominently displaying a news article.

            “I’m not allowed to read the news,” I answered.

            “That means, this is accurate?”

            “What’s accurate?” I asked, pushing the tablet aside.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “Olivia Hascombe’s article about the life of a prominent pleasure boy.” 

            “She published it after all.”  It was a few days after her visit to the pleasure house, and given how things ended, I was convinced she wasn’t going to write word one.  I was pleased to be wrong.  Not even a week had passed, and her article was already published.

            Mark then listed off a number of restrictions to pleasure workers, all the things we have to pay for ourselves, and then ended with, “and they lock you in at night?”

            “That’s all true,” I said simply.  “I thought it was common knowledge.  It had been common knowledge among the people in the community where I grew up, at least.”

            “Are these pictures accurate?” he asked, showing me the tablet again.

            “I’m not allowed to read the news,” I repeated.

            “Looking at pictures isn’t reading,” Mark insisted, shaking the tablet angrily.

            Knowing I’d never win this fight, I looked at the pictures.

            “Yeah.  I was there when she took them.”  I pointed to a particular picture at the bottom of the screen.  “I’m in this one.”

            Mark was starting to hyperventilate.  “You’re prisoners.  I always thought of you as workers.  You’re prisoners.”

            “Can I be a prisoner if I volunteered?” I asked.

            Mark was flipping out.  “They lock you up at night, Nile!  You haven’t been outside in 50 years.  That sounds like prison to me.”  Mark began pacing.  “I have to do something.  You were the first person to treat me like a man.  You were always so supportive and encouraging.  I can’t just…” he looked for a way to finish that sentence, only managing to come up with, “do nothing.”

            “There’s a lot you can do,” I said.

            Mark was having none of it.  “I’m an overpaid actor who has two skills: smiling for the camera and throwing a party.”

            “Well,” I said, “then throw a party.  Make it a fundraiser.”

            “For what?”

            “A lot of pleasure houses are going niche because there’s more money in it for the owners,” I explained.  “Less overhead, higher prices.  When a house goes niche, a lot of pleasure workers are dismissed without cause as the houses scale down.  90 just from this house in the last six months.”  Mark wasn’t connecting the dots, so I kept explaining.  “You don’t work at a pleasure house because there’s a job waiting for you in the labor forces.”

            “Good!” Mark said excitedly.  “Raise funds as a severance package for pleasure workers who were dismissed when their houses went niche.  But that’s just a start.”  He was getting into the swing of it.  “We need to make the labor forces more livable and prevent houses from going niche in the first place.”

            “Smile for the camera,” I said.

            “What?” Mark said, confused.

            “I’ve recently learned you’re a beloved movie star.  Use your fame.  Let people with legacies understand how bad it can be out there for those of us without one.”

            “I don’t know how bad it is out there,” he said simply.

            “You’re a bright man with a lot of resources,” I reassured him.  “Find out.”

            “I could make a movie!” he said.

            “What?”

            “I know it sounds frivolous,” Mark explained, “but a lot of people with legacies will be convinced by a movie far easier than they’d be convinced by a well-written news article.”

            “I suppose I trust your assessment.”

            “Can you give me a starting point?” he asked.

            “Charlie,” I said.  “I don’t know his last name, but he went by Hawk when he worked here.”

            As I told Charlie’s story as I knew it, Mark madly took notes on his tablet then went to the door.

            “Goodbye, Nile,” he said solemnly.  “And thank you.”

            “We’re not going to have sex?” I asked.

            “I just learned you're too close to a sex slave for my comfort,” Mark said.  “I will tip generously for this session, but I only came today to confirm what I read in the news and say goodbye.”  He blew a kiss and waved.  “When you get out, look me up.”

            That was a bizarre session.  After it, my life went mostly back to normal.  Lifting, fucking, eating, medicating. 

            Then I had my next session with Fred.

            “Is this true?” he asked.  In front of my face, he was holding his tablet prominently displaying a news article.

            “I’m not allowed to read the news,” I answered.

            “They’re criminals!” Fred fumed.  “They overcharge you for everything!”

            “This shouldn’t surprise you,” I interjected.  “You’ve recently started paying for most of my supplements.”

            Fred shook his head angrily.  “I didn’t see a receipt or anything.  Isaac gave me a number, and I started tipping that amount of money.  The price tag was so high that I thought I was paying for some exclusive shit you can only get in pleasure houses.”  He pointed to the list of chemicals Olivia mentioned in her article.  “I get all of these hormones and supplements for free from my employers and sponsors.”

            “You have a legacy,” I reminded him.  “I don’t.”

            “But with the publicity they could get!” Fred was reeling.  “A picture of you on a bottle would get half a million legacy businessmen to buy the product, hoping to get one tiny bit as jacked as you.  The manufacturers should be giving you this stuff.”

            “Tell them that,” I said simply.  “You can contact them far easier than I can.”

            “And that purple stuff has been illegal longer than I’ve been alive!”  He was outraged.  “It destroyed a dozen legacy athletes with low growth potentials.  I didn’t even know they were still manufacturing it.”

            Again, I said, “Contact the manufacturers.”

            “They won’t care unless the public cares,” Fred lamented.  “And the public won’t care unless there’s a human face I can put on it.”

            “Raptor,” I said. 

            “Who’s Raptor?” he asked.

            “I told Olivia all about him.  She didn’t mention him in her article?”

            Fred shook his head.

            “I don’t know his real name, but he was Raptor when he was here.”  I told him the story of Raptor.  “And if you need someone more recent with a real first name, Sebastian.  He was Pelée here, and he’s trying to find work at another pleasure house when he left.”

            “Thanks, Nile,” he said.  Then, defeatedly, he added, “I don’t think I can get a boner today.  There’s too much on my mind.”

            “That’s okay,” I said.  “You want me to get hard so you can play with daddy’s cock?”

            “Would you?”

            I slipped off my clothes.  “And, hey, if you get an erection after all, I’ll take care of it for you.”

            That was another bizarre session.  After it, my life went mostly back to normal.  Lifting, fucking, eating, medicating.

            Then I had my next session with Jiminy.

            “Is this true?” he asked.  In front of my face, he was holding his tablet prominently displaying a news article.

            “I’m not allowed to read the news,” I answered.

            “Tony said it was all lies, but your answer just confirms everything.  You really can’t even read the news?  That’s ridiculous!” Jiminy looked disgusted.

            “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jiminy.”

            “Cliff,” he said, collapsing on the bed.  “You might as well call me Cliff now.”

            I sat next to him, moved his head into my lap, and stroked his chest affectionately.  “What’s bugging you the most about this?”

            “How do you deal with the boredom?” he asked.

            His answer took me completely by surprise.  “That’s your biggest gripe?”

            “I can comprehend boredom,” Cliff answered.  “The bigger picture I don’t fully get, but boredom is something I deal with daily.”

            “Then, let’s talk about boredom,” I acquiesced.

            “Tony’s loaded, but I come from an even wealthier family than he does.  I’ve never had to work a day in my life.  I mean, I have a legacy, but I’ve never had to use it.  So, believe me when I say that I understand boredom.  But when I'm bored, I go to a nice restaurant with friends, or watch a movie, or read a book, or travel.  You can’t do any of that.”

            “We find ways to amuse ourselves.”

            Cliff was unconvinced.  “Tony treats you like property, runs every facet of your life, and keeps you locked up in here with nothing to do.”  Cliff sat up so quickly he almost careened into the prominent overhang of my pecs.  “I empathize, Nile.  He does the same to me.  He tells me where I can and can’t go.  Who I can and can’t be friends with.  He has turned my body into a twisted sculpture to reflect his idea of beauty.  I’ve had three facelifts and two pec implants.  He has me working out to get even more muscular and he got me to start taking dimefidone because he wants me to have a bigger dick.”  He pulled up his pant leg to reveal the sun tattoo.  “I didn’t even want this tattoo—Tony did.  It’s like he branded me.”  Not hearing the implications of his next thought, Cliff pronounced, “And I have a legacy!  Imagine how he’d treat me if I didn’t!”

            “That sounds like Tony,” I said.  Then, attempting to reassure him, I advised, “You could always say no.  Stop working out, stop taking the dimefidone, stop getting plastic surgery.  It’s your body, not his.”

            Seemingly, he didn’t hear me.  His reply was unrelated.  “And then, when he’s gotten all he can out of his boys, he tosses you aside.”  Cliff grabbed my arm as tightly as he could.  “Is that what he’s going to do to me?  Divorce me and leave me in this twisted image of his wet dream?”

            Inspired by an idea that would help us both out, I said, “If you’re so bored, and you’re so worried about being tossed aside, find a way to occupy your time that makes Tony value you.  What’s your legacy?”

            This time, he heard me.  “Entertainment complexes.  My family own a chain of hotels, theaters, and casinos.  A few theme parks too.”

            I’d expected something like this since he married Tony.  When things fall into place, they really fall into place.  “Then, you’re uniquely suited to make this place more livable for us.  Insist to Tony that you add some attractions at his houses that we can use in our off hours—like movie theaters for the pleasure workers.”

            “He’d never allow that,” Cliff said.

            “I haven’t seen a movie in 50 years,” I explained.  “A few years ago, I had a client who wanted me to pretend to be a superhero who rescued him.  Thing was, I’d never heard of the superhero.  The movie had come out just that year, so I had to have him explain the whole plot to me.  Think of what fantasies Tony’s boys could fulfill if they didn’t have to waste time like that.”

            Cliff’s eyes lit up.  “The theaters could show the most scintillating porn, biggest blockbusters, celebrity crushes…” 

            “Call it a research facility,” I suggested.  “And don’t forget to point out to him how much more profitable his houses will be if his workers can stay up to date on recent fads and trends.”

            “I have so many ideas,” he said.

            “I have a few myself,” I countered, unzipping his pants.

            That was yet another bizarre session.  After it, my life went mostly back to normal.  Lifting, fucking, eating, medicating.

            Then I had my next session with Quentin.

            “Is this true?” he asked.  In front of my face, he was holding his tablet prominently displaying a news article.

            “No Nathan?” I asked, looking around.

            “Is this true?” he repeated.

            “I’m not allowed to read the news,” I answered.

            “I know that,” he insisted.  “Read it anyways.”  He proffered me his tablet.  “If Tony does anything, I’ll use my powers as governor to pardon you.”

            I scanned the article quickly.  “Yep.  It’s all true.  I don’t really appreciate her tone of pity, but she didn’t even exaggerate.”

            Quentin began pontificating.  “Voters see the pleasure houses as a way out of poverty, not a scam for the wealthy to drain money from the poor.”

            “I know that,” I said, handing back the tablet.  “It’s why I work here.”

            “I need you with me outside of this house,” he said.

            “Wait a few months,” I replied.

             “I need a right hand man, someone without a legacy, who’s familiar with the ins and outs of a pleasure house, to help me draft some legislation to make this place serve the residents of my state.  Someone who can take orders and isn’t afraid of hard work.”

            “Paul,” I said.  “He was Krakatoa here.”

            “I know Krakatoa.  I tried him once or twice.  He’s not the brightest man.”

            “He’s your guy,” I assured him.  “You want the legislation to make sense to everyone and use plainspoken language.”

            “I see your point,” Quentin said.

            “He might be working at another pleasure house,” I warned him.

            “I can pay him enough so he’ll want to join my team.”

            “Indeed you can,” I agreed.

            Quentin eyed me warily.  “I still need you for a few weeks to get the ball rolling.”

            I shook my head emphatically no.  “I’m not leaving until I serve my 50.”

            “Can you at least give me a jumping off point?”

            I stifled a chuckle.  To me, the answer was self-explanatory.  “Limit the number of niche houses.  Make it so that, for a house owner to operate in your state, 90% or more of their houses have to be general houses.”

            “More job opportunities,” Quentin said.  “Of course.  It should have been obvious.”  He looked from his tablet to me, then back to the tablet.  “You sure I can’t convince you to join the team?”

            “Maybe when I retire from the house,” I said.  “Now, do you want a blow job?”

            He marched to the door.  “I’m far too busy,” he said.  “Don’t worry; I tipped you before I even got here.”

            That was still yet another bizarre session.  After it, my life went mostly back to normal.  Lifting, fucking, eating, medicating.

            Then I had my next session with Adam.

            “Is this true?” he asked.  In front of my face, he was holding his tablet prominently displaying a news article.

            “I’m not allowed to read the news,” I answered.

            “Don’t be coy with me,” he said, sounding impatient. “I’ve spoken to Quentin.  I know you’ve already read it.”

            “What particular aspect are you outraged by?”

            He pointed at the screen.  “People would prefer working in pleasure houses to being in the labor forces?”

            “Yes,” I said flatly.  I didn’t see what was so outraging about that.

            “Are the labor forces that bad?”

            I had not been in the labor forces in 50 years, so I couldn’t be specific.  Instead, I pointed out, “That sounds like a question a senator could research.”

            “I can’t upend the legacy system,” Adam said.

            “I didn’t ask you to.”  I wanted him to, but I hadn’t asked him to.

            “But what could I do?”  He was desperate.

            I pointed to myself.  “Pleasure boy.”  Then, I pointed at him.  “Senator.”  Then, I threw my hands up, semi-exasperatedly and said, “Use that beautiful brain of yours.”

            He thought so hard his face screwed up.  “I could introduce a bill to raise the minimum wage, increase work safety, add to the number of non-legacy careers…I’ve been in the senate so long, I could call in some favors and probably get a handful of them passed no problem…”  Adam was talking to himself while biting his finger, deep in thought, but I could hear every word. 

            “Those sound like bold initiatives that might get a fellow re-elected.”

            Adam looked up and stopped biting his finger.  “Initiatives like that would appeal to non-legacy voters?”

            “I’ve been inside for 50 years,” I reminded him.  “You’ll have to do that research for yourself.”

            “Stop playing dumb.  You’re as smart as me, maybe smarter.  Do you suppose it would get non-legacy voters to actually vote?” he asked.

            “Non-legacy people don’t vote?” I asked.  I mean, just because I and my fellow pleasure workers never voted didn’t mean that was normal for people outside a pleasure house.

            Pessimistically, Adam informed me, “The voter turnout for non-legacy voters is around 0.5%.  A little under that, actually”

            “Then it sounds like these new policies you’re thinking of are worth researching.  And if you could get even one of them passed before the election, it shows them you’re committed and not just selling false promises.”

            Adam resumed biting his finger.  This time, though, he did it while staring at me and bouncing his pecs.  “Why didn’t you tell me your sexiest feature was your brain?” he asked.

            “Well, for 25 out of the 30 years you’ve known me, I was actively suppressing my brain with a mood stabilizer as a survival mechanism.”

            Adam chuckled, and then looked me squarely in the eyes.  “Say something really smart.  I want to see a mountain of muscle with a cock I can’t take say something really smart.”

            I complied.  “Almost 2/3 of people have no legacy.  If only 0.5% of them vote, you’re representing, at most, 33.8% of all voters.  Imagine how many votes you could aggregate if you accessed that untapped voter base?”

            With that, Adam leapt into my arms.

[arpeejay]

Of all the many chapters of all the many stories you have posted here, this one is my favorite! (And not just because I am routinely infuriated by the fact that people older than my 65 years are wiping down tables at McDonald's in order to make ends meet! "And then I had my session with..." Pure story-telling gold!) 

[HawkShark]

I'm having some trouble expressing how much I enjoyed this chapter. This is exactly what I'd hoped it'd be. Nile really is working on all the necessary fronts to make real improvements. Mark (public relations and media), Fred (financial independence), Cliff (more free flow of information), Quentin (state executive government), Adam (federal legislation)...

I particularly loved how all of these regulars were using Nile, not for his muscles, or his cock but for his brain.

Lastly, I managed to spot a minor syntax error: "Cliff sat up so quickly he almost careened into the prominent overhang my pecs."
I presume you missed an 'of'. Just like a school child who catches their learned teacher in a small error . 

I can't wait for more, I'm sure there'll be a backlash chapter from Tony, and the cafeteria discussion with the boys should be exciting too!

[TQuintA]

7 minutes ago, HawkShark said:

I presume you missed an 'of'

Well spotted and so emended.

[ploder4]

I like the repetitive and robotic response Nile has.  Something so outrageous being something so completely normal to those inside not realizing that they are sort of brainwashed over time to comply with a different society and be actually happy with it.  Nile seems so content to just eat, lift, fuck, medicate and sleep. 

Nile is now a really powerful man, brains and brawn.  He seems to be the smartest guy in the entire room when the people he served are supposed to be smarter and yet this all comes about through simple logic and basic knowledge.  I wonder if Nile is going to end up a senator or something better suited to his abilities.  Imagine a near 600 pound hulking senator Nile? 

[Ro20316]

We have to thank Slate. He got Nile's eyes wide open he said to Nile that he was the most influential man on that house and he is finally doing something. It took years but Nile built a nice relationship with his clients and they respect him and  they will try to help and expose what being a nonlegacy person really means. How the poor suffer trying to have a simple life.

I loved how Nile is trying to help those that were dissmised from Tartarus. There has to be a side chapter where they try to talk to each man and about the repercutions of the article in general.