had dropped out of college and moved to
Orlando. He'd heard the reputation and figured it was the best place in the
country to meet hot young underage guys. He got himself a job at Universal
Studios, and after work,
he'd prowl the streets, picking up twinks.One day he was sitting in the cafeteria at work, hitting on a the kid who played ET, when his eyes fell upon a slightly greasy-looking chap. Grease Boy was all over a girl dressed like Pippi Longstocking and Chris smiled. His tastes didn't run that way, but he could certainly appreciate the skill it took to play women.
Just then, Grease Boy looked up and their eyes met. It was Kermit or Miss Piggy or something - meant to be. Like fate or whatever. They exchanged a significant nod and met out back in the alley.
"Dude," Chris said, "check it out. We're both into getting laid, right?"
"Der, yah," Grease Boy responded, his brow crinkled
in thought. "Me like lay. Yah."
"Good, good." Chris rubbed his hands gleefully. "Then I have this idea I need to run by you. What we need to do is, start a boyband!"
Met by Joey's blank look, Chris knew his point hadn't gotten across.
"Listen, man: we need to start a band. We'll surround ourselves with hot guys and the chicks will just come rolling in!"
Joey's face became wreathed in smiles.
"Yah," he muttered. "Joye lick rolling chicks."
And so it began.
A week or two later, Chris had spotted his first
victim, a very young boy named Justin.
Justin was a
little scrawny, but Chris' practiced eye could already
see the hottie he would turn into in a few short
years.
So he devised a cunning plan. He tracked down Justin's home phone number and called him in to a phony audition. Justin, being none too clever and also being the product of a proud WT household, jumped at the chance, and when the audition 'fell through', Chris was right there to pick up the pieces.
Justin then roped in his friend JC.
Chris wasn't sure
about this guy at first.
He wasn't particularly hot,
and he was boring as hell, but he could sort of sing
and he danced around energetically enough. He figured
he would do for now.
Now he just had to introduce them to Joey. After a day or two, he hit on the perfect casual meetingplace: Bob's House of Underage Love, the only pedophile nightclub in the greater Orlando area.
JC wasn't so sure about it, but Chris slipped him some coke, and this new thrill kept him entertained and quiet. Justin didn't think anything of it. His mom even dropped him off in her Firebird, so it had to be okay.
Once inside, Chris spotted Joey quite easily through all the men wearing leather and studded rubber. He was hitting on a man in a long blond wig and seemed oblivious to the fact that the guy was wearing a codpiece.
"Hey," he said casually, "lookie there! It's my close personal friend Joe! What a coincidence."
Justin, having never been to a sex club before, was wide-eyed and silent. JC started to protest, but Chris cut him another line and he shut up.
"Why don't we hit the dancefloor," Chris said, waving Joe over and signalling the DJ. As the strains of "Macho Man" floated over the boys, their bodies began swaying to the rhythm. They just couldn't help themselves.
Of course, the Rohypnol Chris had slipped them helped.
But they moved together so well that soon patrons began to inquire if they were Junior Chippendales, and Chris knew he had a winner.
The only remaining problem was that they needed to be able to sing, too, but he soon discovered that was no problem. Not only could both JC and Justin sing, both of them enjoyed the spotlight so much that Chris knew he'd have plenty of time left over to pursue his other interests.
He called his fellow Bob patron Lou and set up a
recording deal with him. Lou insisted they needed a
bass, though - "All boy bands need five members. It's a
rule." - and he set them up with some random guy named
Jason. Whatever.
Chris was psyched - he was going to score like nobody's business. Joey was already picking up two or three chicks a day. He'd never been happier.
Then they went on a brief tour of regional malls, and it began to hit the fan. Chris realized he has made a serious miscalculation. He could take care of himself, as could Joey, but JC and Justin were in their sexual primes and had no outlet for their raging hormones. After one horrible week sharing a hotel room with both JC and Justin and learning more about their masturbatory habits than he'd ever wanted to know, he gently suggested that they turn to Jason for relief.
Jason ran like hell.
Chris sighed. It would have been such a perfect solution. Oh, well. They needed a new bass-cum-love toy, and he had Justin make some calls.
"We're looking for a bass," he told his vocal coach. "Preferably gay."
The coach was sorry to report he didn't have any known gay basses at the moment.
"But I do have this kid who's a total pushover. How about him?"
Justin turned to JC, who was listening in on speaker.
JC scribbled something on a piece of paper and slid it over. Justin nodded.
"Is he hot?"
"Well..." the coach waffled. "Not now. But he has potential."
They nodded at each other.
"We'll take him."
And that's how NSYNC started. Check 'em out!
