by Screw Vision
April 3, 2001
Pop prince Mikey Mannion has admitted that he had sex with former boyfriend Bolt Trueheart despite once vowing to remain a virgin until he wed.
July 26, 2002
Mikey Mannion said in a candid interview with the U.K. tabloid Big Fat Liar that none of the songs that will be on his upcoming album will have anything to do with his ex-boyfriend Bolt Trueheart or their break-up.
October 19, 20003
Pop prince Mikey Mannion learned on Thursday that fame can be fleeting as he disappeared from this year's Forbes Top 100 Celebrity List after last year's No. 1 spot.
Who the hell is Mikey Mannion you say?
Mikey Mannion was born on July 6th, 1985 in Hawthorne, California. Childhood was tough for this headstrong youngster. His parents divorced when he was 11 and he dropped out of school at 14 to concentrate on his career. Unfortunately his career at that time involved stealing and selling drugs.
That wouldn't last for long, however. A man would come into the young California boy’s life and change it around. His name was Barry Scott.
The record producing Scott likes to tell war stories. And that fits, because he's known in the music industry as "The Admiral", the all-powerful and omnipresent creative force behind the pop mega-sensations Front Page News, Adolescent Nice and a battalion of other young stars in the making.
Scott does more than put himself out for his groups. Beyond writing songs and producing records, he is a mega-mentor, a packager who hand-picks his acts and demands total control -- from playing all the instruments to choreographing the stage act to providing counsel on appearance and mannerisms -- not unlike the method used by fellow producer Berry Gordy Jr. to build the music dynasty known as Motown.
In return, Scott promises a high potential for success. His songs -- mostly love songs whose slick melodies and pop/R&B blend hearken back to Motown and '70s Philadelphia soul -- are meant to sell to the masses, not satisfy the critics. And they do sell. "Everything I've done in the past two years has been a hit," he notes with neither surprise nor awe. 'A music-making machine'
"I've always felt I could teach anybody to sing. Anybody," he says. "My whole thing is promotion, strategy, marketing and management. I'm in those areas more than anything else. Through my experiences, I've found out that it takes more than just a record. I spend less time in the studio than anything else. Making the record is the easy part; the hard part, and the part I work at most, is getting the record to the people."
Eclipse Records' John Harlan says Scott is a cross between Berry Gordy Jr., Philly soul producers Gamble and Huff and P.T. Barnum. "He's a great marketer and a great promoter," Harlan says. "He says, 'What does the market want, and I'll give it to them.' That gives him an edge.
Barry had unprecedented success with a male quintet known as Front Page News, and he intended to duplicate that success with a boy group. So he immediately began enlisting new talent for his new musical assemblage that would be called Everything Nice.
The first recruit was Dano E. Mannion from Hawthorne, California. In Dano, Barry saw the perfect lump of clay to mold. He was a rapper, a singer and a break-dancer . . . all the ingredients needed to make his a good all-round entertainer. He also came across as very enthusiastic and keen.
Mac Carson appealed to Barry because, like Dano, he was a rapper and a break-dancer.
Jon Kirkgordon appealed to Barry because he was a great singer as well as a dancer. With his looks, charm and falsetto voice, Jon Kirkgordon would become the most popular and well-known member of Everything Nice (later re-christened the Adolescent Nice).
Ariel Woods was known for his dedication, self-discipline and stubbornness which would later help see him through the negative patches in his musical career.
Brenda Kirkgordon (Jon's older brother) was considered an unlikely choice because he seemed more interested in gardening than music. He was also very shy. His well-trained voice, through his years of participation in choir singing, attracted Barry.
The group had an established line-up for a time. However, Mac Carson was not to remain in the group. He began drinking heavily and missing practice sessions.
In 1985 Mikey was dismissed and a replacement for his was found in Rand Martin Eddings. In Randy, Barry saw cuteness (he was only 12 years old when he joined), a good singer, dancer and entertainer. His own inner strength would see Rand through the initial rejection that he would experience by the other boys, who resented his replacing their friend Mac.
There was another boy in Everything Nice ... he was Dano Mannion's younger brother, Mikey.
The last of nine children born to working-class Irish Catholic parents in a soul-cramping three-bedroom apartment in the modest mid-city district of Hawthorne, Mikey Mannion was drawn to the streets at an early age. His parents divorced when he was 11, and his mother credits his own self-absorption after the fact as the main reason why his youngest subsequently took boyhood delinquency to dramatic new heights. he dropped out of school at the age of 14 to pursue his career as a street hustler full-time: "Every day was: Wake up, go out, hustle, make money, steal, sell drugs, rob people, do drugs. And all the while I was sharing a bed with my father … whom I eventually learned was really only my STEP-father. More on that later.
About the bed thing…
“He started on me the DAY I turned eighteen … as if he’d been waiting for that magic number all his life. My birthday party was over and all the guests had left. Step-Daddy said he wanted to take me somewhere special to celebrate, and I was all for it. But the special place he took me to was a VERY cheap motel on the environs of town. When I realized what his plan was I couldn’t believe it. I started to yell, realizing that I was now in a place with paper thin walls and certainly someone would come to my rescue. Step-Daddy grabbed me and muffled my protest with his hand. He grabbed the sashes from the window curtain and threw me face down on the bed. Sitting on my back, he gagged my mouth with one and then tied my hands together behind my back with the other. He got up off the bed and undressed. I screamed and struggling for him to let me go. How perverse I felt at being overpowered by him.
“But he knew that I wanted this and didn’t protest TOO loudly. In all honestly I allowed him to do what he did because the dangerous feel of the situation made me HOT.
“Dad walked around the bed to the other window and grabbed two more sashes. He came back to the bed and sat on my backside again. He untied my hands but held then securely as he tied a sash to each wrist and then turned me over on my back. He tied the other end of the sashes to the rails of the headboard. I could feel the wetness between my legs mocking my protest.
“He tried to spread my legs as I kicked at him and easily got between them. My clothes were easily cast aside as he threw one leg over his arm and pushed his cock in until he hit the back of my cunt. The bed shook as I pulled against the ties in my struggle. ‘You're so wet, Mikey. Does this excite you?’ he panted. He was ramming me in the nether-region as hard as he could. "Do you like being tied up?" I was wrestling against him and feeling my dick drip precum as he thrust himself into me again and again. He leaned down and bit at my man-nipples, matching the roughness of his fucking. He was reaching his peak too quickly and threw both of my legs up over his arms, getting the full length of his cock inside of me.
“I squeezed my sphincter hard as I reached for my orgasm. ‘Go ahead... scream,’ he said grinning and staring at my eyes. ‘No one will hear you. This place is known for it’s … discretion.’ How horrible it was to grip the sashes and pull with all of my strength as I every nerve concentrated on the tightening muscles that would soon be jerking out of control with an orgasm. The intensity of my muffled grunting increased with each thrust until I closed my eyes and screamed into the fabric.
“When my father quickly reached his peak, he exploded in a rage, slamming the bed against the wall. He dropped my legs and collapsed on top of me, gasping for each breath of air. As he finally calmed down, he reached up and untied my hands, but stayed mounted on top of me. I reached up and pulled the gag off my mouth. He started to grab my hand, but realized that I wasn't going to scream. He kissed me gently on the lips and held me as we rolled over on our sides.
"So I was a thieving, hell-raising guy who lay with the stepdad. By normal standards, by Middle-American standards, I should have been locked away, and they should have thrown away the key," Mannion recalls the tragic days of his youth.
Eventually he was convicted for his involvement in the incidental savage beatings of two men, from whom Mannion had attempted to steal a case of beer. He wound up serving a 45-day jail sentence at Salinas Valley, an experience he now credits for changing the purpose and direction of his wastrel life.
Those 45 days passed very slowly.
Mikey and the rather hardened young boy he roomed with behind bars continually bickered, and they managed to spar about once a day. The California boy’s cell-mate, Virgil Whitmore, had even managed to go psychotic eleven days into Mannion's sentence when Mikey decorated their cell with a huge feathered Native American dream-catcher. His cell-mate became enraged and even beat Mikey cross-eyed on one occasion.
The he-thug might have killed the future pop prince that day if this psychotic hustler hadn't recalled the fact that (because he'd spied them in the shower) Mikey Mannion had beautiful feet.
So after the blonde songbird regained his senses (though he was still dazed from the savage beating) the inmate, who possessed a clear insatiable fetish for female feet, roughly seized the entertainer, stripped his of his shirt and then dumped his upon his bottom assigned bunk.
Weak as he was, Mikey was unable to do anything to save himself. He lay face-up and shirtless while the inmate tied his hands to the bunk posts nearest his head. He then yanked off the songbird's shoes and socks. Then Mikey felt each of his now vulnerable bare feet being tied to the two posts at the foot of the bed. His feet were secured so that his legs were spread apart.
Virgil Whitmore lifted the mattress from his own top bunk and, pulled out an eagle feather (from Mikey’s own dream-catcher!) and stroked it menacingly. Most inmates smuggle in cigarettes and the like . . . fetish-minded Virgil traded four packs of Camels for one eagle's feather.
"Please, Virg," Mikey exclaimed, finally realizing what his cell-mate had in store for his that morning. He thought he might try appealing to the inmate sense of decency. "Please don’t do this."
"Well, it's either this or your honeypot, miss thing. I'd think you'd be glad that I’m not of the mind to diddle you till the walls cave in." Virgil Whitmore replied, running the feather down Mikey's ankles in titillating circular motions until it finally came to rest at Mikey's feet.
"No p-please, stop it, PLEEEEASE! You can't do this! I--"
"Will you shut the fuck up? Damn! You ever thought of becoming a female rapper? I mean, except for these beautiful, dainty feet, you're all mouth."
Mikey tried desperately to jerk his feet away, but his cell-mate had tied his ankles too tightly to allow that. Mikey screamed inwardly. Then outwardly. Soon he was so out of breath he could barely laugh or scream in any form or fashion. Virgil intensified his tickling of the impudent cell-mate's tender feet, running the feather over his toes and back down his heels, then in between all ten of his toes and over his insteps.
"AAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!" Mikey laughed, on the cusp of hyperventilation. He tried to continue to verbally beg the inmate to stop, but he was laughing so hard that he simply wasn't capable of intelligibly vocalizing his pleas.
So Mikey's cell-mate spent a lot of time torturing the future divo’s feet. Virgil tickled them with a vengeance, making the blonde songbird howl while his toes curled in a futile effort to get away from the relentless tormenting sensation.
Mikey pleaded that the endless foot-torture would end. His cell-mate responded by concentrated on the divo’s armpits for a while. Mikey pulled at his bonds to get away from the tickling sensations in both armpits. He screamed and howled as the feather stroked back and forth--first in his right armpit and then in the left.
Still, Mikey Mannion's feet were the most ticklish part of his body. Each new stroke across his toes brought new laughter and struggling from the curvaceous songbird. Mikey's legs jerked and pulled at his bonds, but it did no good--the tickling continued for hours. No other prisoners complained about the noise . . . no guards came to stop the torture.
When the contrite, tickle-weary Mannion was released from jail, his older brother Dano (who had skyrocketed to teeny-bopper fame as a member of the shiny-happy band Everything Nice) informed his younger sibling that Barry Scott left a slot in the singing group open for his. So Mikey Mannion was in.
But just as quickly, the blonde songbird opted out of what music critics called the "squeaky-clean glee club" less than a year after its formation.
Why?
It began the day his fellow "Niceties", including his brother Dano, VOTED HIM OUT of the group.
The news that he hadn't been cutting it talent-wise came as quite a blow to Mikey, His heart staggered and stopped in his chest--as if his chest had been clamped down onto his back-bone. He struggled against wave after wave of faintness; for to faint before his former band-mates would be a worse indignity than being told he had no talent.
He pleaded for them to allow his to remain in the group. He promised to hone his dance and singing skills. But the others continued to give his an emphatic "thumbs down", until ....
"This is where you can show us how much you appreciate being in this group, Mikey," said Jon Kirkgordon, capriciously wiggling his toes in his socks. Sweaty socks that young Mannion could smell at a distance. The band had just concluded an intensive rehearsal that required a LOT of dance moves. The result was five pairs of malodorous, sweat-soaked socks.
Jon Kirkgordon, self-appointed leader of EN, ordered Mikey to lay down on the floor at his feet. And once the impudent young wannabe divo followed suit, Jon began to lightly rub his sweaty socks in Mikey's face. The group leader rubbed the area in between his toes and the ball of his foot back and forth across Mikey's nose, from his big toe to his little toe. And after what seemed like a VERY long while, Mikey was ordered to smell the sweaty socks of another EN member named Rand Eddings. The impudent young Mannion lay down with his head at Rand's white-socked feet which were propped on a speaker. The songbird dutifully nuzzled up to Rand's feet, with his nose buried in the arch. Rand Eddings rubbed and wiggled his toes on the impudent band-mate’s forehead.
"That's it, you no-talent bitch . . . sniff those socks . . . suck every last drop of that sweat!" Mikey's own brother Dano ordered when the time came for his younger sibling to minister to his socked tootsies. He’d always been jealous of Mikey, but today was the first time anyone fully revealed just HOW jealous.
Mikey took all of this abject humiliation like a trooper . . . did everything they ordered his to do. He caressed the feet of all his band-mates and gently kissed all fifty of their toes, breathing in the fragrance of both dried and wet footsweat. He felt the warm flesh and wiggling toes through their damp white socks--kept sniffing until he nearly passed out from a combination of effort and the odor.
Then his band-mates removed their socks . . . ready to take Mikey's humiliation to an entirely new level.
Mikey instantaneously buried his nose beneath the bare toes of all the EN members, and this more temperate aroma eventually became more intoxicating than disgusting to his. His tongue EAGERLY went to work, cleaning off their smooth soles and licking the sensitive zones between their sweaty toes clean. He licked noisily like a ravenous animal as he voraciously slurped all the sweat from their feet. Most of his band-mates chuckled as he moved from toe to toe on each of their feet. Their sweat was salty and delectable. Mikey licked and sucked and nibbled their toes as if they were an expensive meal to be savored.
Still he found himself out of the group once this exercise in abasement was over.
