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🕑 Added 2023-03-09 15:17:25 +0000 UTCREVENGE PORN, Inc
By Wyrdey
That patented GO-TIME! feeling is so strong.
It's early enough in the day that that initial RUSH of energy, that almost manic feeling of purpose hasn't started to wear off yet.
Yes, it's already been hours of prep at the safehouse... Yes, we have a long day ahead of us - when do we ever not?... But that feeling, that WIRED feeling of a plan coming together hasn't worn off yet.
It would probably remind me why I got into this business, if I could remember why I got into this business, or if I wasn't so totally sure that it was for the money.
But GODDAMN, what money!
The radio crackles.
The target is in sight.
This is it, this is such a key moment, and it's all mine.
"Do you have him?", The second unit director asks.
Of course I fucking do. Perfectly framed, just enough of that shaky handheld cam bullshit to make it look raw and authentic too. Clients love that shit... I mean, I assume they do: obviously I'll never be allowed to see or speak to or know anything about one, but it feels like the constant stream of notes and memos really prizes that feeling of rawness, of gonzo immediacy.
And that's my job: I really just shoot behind-the-scenes shit, but in this business that's the real draw.
The target looks typical enough - nice suit, 50s maybe, those frown lines that rich fuckers get from... What? Firing people and embezzling money, I guess?
He's completely unsuspecting when Muscle#1 steps out and tranqs him.
Spraycan right in the face, nicely done: quick, quiet, out of sight.
Target goes down pretty fast. That stuff is no joke.
Muscle #2 and #3 emerge to stop him from hitting the ground and rush him into the back of the van that pulls up.
Military timing. Really went down well, no editing needed here.
I got the whole thing, ESPECIALLY that little instant of surprise on his face.
Fuck, they love that.
I mean... I assume.
Thumbs up to the second unit guy, radio crackles again, and we peel out after the van.
Back to the safehouse we go - kidnappers, pornographers, and aglow with the feeling of a careful plan coming together.
Why can't it always be this smooth?
So, fundamentally, it's all rich person shit, I guess.
Like, not the Rich People you know - they're just a useful distraction - the REAL Rich People.
I assume they're people, anyway - who can really say for sure?
Maybe you expect I'm going to tell you something about them: about their youthful faces despite their century-plus age, their weird clubs and rituals, the demons and/or aliens that they deal with to get all their little toys and gifts, the secret Hyperborean country where it all REALLY goes down...
I'm not going to, both because I'm not that suicidal and dumb, and because I don't know.
Don't care to know either.
Don't even remember how I got recruited to play my role in some of their sleazy Rich Person games.
I suspect this isn't accidental - when dealing with a shadowy cabal with - among so much else - actual fucking mind control tech, you should probably expect to find yourself oddly apathetic about the details, the implications.
Yes, I have holes in my memory and an odd lack of interest in the Earth's secret true Ruling Class: whoopty-fucking-doo.
You probably do too, at least I KNOW that I've been fucked with.
And I don't care.
And that's kind of the point.
...But, basically, imagine this:
Imagine if Caligula actually WAS a God - or at the least had access to things that made that kind of power achievable - what would that sick little fuck have gotten up to?
What happens when profound sexual decadence meets unlimited power?
Weird shit, that's what.
And hence the profession that I am such a dutiful and extremely well-compensated participant in.
Imagine if someone ticked you off - nothing major, just a petty slight - do you think it would be really fucking hot to have embarrassing porn of that person?
Like, somehow temporarily transform them into a dumb porn slut, film them getting railed and cumming like an absolute whore, and then change them back, (mostly) blank their memory and put everything back the way it was...
Except now everytime you see them, every time you have to deal with them again, you can think back to that video in your private collection. The one where they're a bimbo begging to feel a big black cock in their ass? The one where they cum so hard from being filled with jizz that they actually black out?
If that thought doesn't appeal to you - or even seems kinda weird and sick - then, I'm sorry, you're too much of a Normie to be a part of SuperCaligula's secret circle.
A lot of the Secret Rulers loooooooove this shit.
...And, just on the DL, I do too.
We arrive at the Location - seemingly just a rather nice, open-plan house in a wealthy neighbourhood.
We pull into the garage - there doesn't seem to be a lot of people around, but it's still better if some nosy old biddy doesn't see us dragging an unconscious man from the car.
I'm there front and center, filming as our Starlet-to-be is transferred to a stretcher and rushed to the Body Guys. Their department was probably supposed to be a den or something, but it looks something between a hospital room, a gardening supply store, and the bridge of a fucking Starship.
The Target makes a little groan as the techs swarm around him, undressing him, taking measurements.
The Director is there, trying to both be in the centre of the action and stay out of people's way.
"Prep the cocoon", someone shouts authoritatively, "we're going to need some fast mass reduction"
I zoom in on a white coated figure tapping the first of so many needles.
The injections are quick and professional.
Someone comes in with the headphones, big bulky sci-fi things. They briefly lift them up to the camera so that the recording can be heard.
"He he he heeee..." The brainless schoolgirl giggle coos with seductive idiocy. "Oooooooo! I'm SUCH a bad girl! OMG! If no one PUNISHES me soon, I might just scream! Ooooooooooooo! I'm SUCH a naughty horny little slut! Boys get me all GOOOOOSHY!... Mmmmmm! Yummy! He he heee he he he! Ooooooooo...."
The headphones are pulled away.
The crooning valley girl slut drivel is just crawling with subliminals, of course.
The effect is limited without the relevant drugs, but the guidelines still prohibit more than a few seconds of exposure.
You don't want your whole team giggling and diddling themselves to the thought of big yummy boys and their huge yummy cocks all day, do you?
With the headphones now firmly placed over his ears, activity steps up around the cocoon.
Even after all this time, seeing the effect of those preliminary injections - whatever the fuck they are - is still incredible. He's already noticeably thinner, younger looking, shorter even. The pasty naked body lying across the stretcher is already noticeably changed - not any more attractive just yet - still a paunchy flabby mass with unruly silver body hair and weirdly low-hanging testicles, but a smaller, tighter, shrinking kind of paunchy flab.
His dick is starting to get that weird unfurling shrivelled kind of look that they get just before they start to really contract and change too.
Sometimes the injections will be enough, but not this time: the target form is too short, slight, and young to be achievable within the available timeframe. Some bigger guns are needed, in this case, the cocoon. It can manage the more extreme body changes within an hour or so.
Low level techs are now tut-tutting and crowding round to shave and wax him. The cocoon should theoretically take care of most if not all of his body hair, but why leave it to chance?
I make sure I get back far enough to really fit him completely in the frame in all of his naked pasty glory.
Clients love seeing the details in this shit.
He deliriously stirs as the waxing begins, his dick really starting to shrink away.
"Cocks are SSSOOOOOO yummy!" He airily repeats from his headphones in a dumb valley girl tone, his voice starting to break. "Oh God! What if he just stuck it up my ass! That'd be, like, SSSOOOOOO hawt!" He dissolved into moronic giggles.
The technicians shared amused looks as they continued working.
His bimboslut impression was already getting pretty good.
The brief had been both extremely specific and kind of vague, in the way that it always is.
There was a large amount of notated visual material, most of it screenshots of sleazy internet porn, but the main description given had been "Dumb slutty horny bimbo slut teen retard with huge dumb slutty titties and an idiot cocksucker barbie face like just a dumb dumb horny fucking cocksucking giggly whore valley girl bimbo teen slut, you know?"
I think we were on target.
They were lifting his dwindling frame into the cocoon now, the motion set him off again, his face twisted into a stupid grin.
"NNNOOOOO BABE! I WANNA FEEL YOU, I WANNA FEEL AAAALLLLLL OF YOU HARD IN MY HOT LITTLE SLUTTY CUNT! I'M SO WEEEEEEEETTTTTT, BABY! I NEED YOU TO FILL ME UP! I NEED YOU TO POUND MY LITTLE PUSSY! I NEED YOU TO CUM IN ME! I NEEEEEE..."
The cocoon slamming shut cut off his wails.
The cocoon makes my kind of filming difficult, so it fortunately comes equipped with its own timelapse camera. I saw the Director shouting about that somewhere in a corner.
I decided to wander around and capture some more literal behind-the-scenes footage.
It was a nice house, really. It was clear that no one actually lived here, though.
The rooms mostly looked like backstage at a theatre company that was also a medical supply house.
The exception was the living room, which looked really quite convincing. And you'd never notice the cameras either.
Thousands of them. Everywhere.
So many mirrors that were one-way windows for pre-positioned cameramen, so many pinhole cameras hidden in... Pretty much literally everything.
It was a hidden camera set up gone mad.
I've been on shoots 'in the wild', of course, usually in the target's house.
There's just something about seeing a guy turned into a flustered maid with overflowing tits getting nailed on his own kitchen table... Or made into a trollop who's enthusiastically sucking off his daughter's hated boyfriend... Or whatever... That really seems to appeal to some people.
Coverage is always a problem though.
Porn has trained people to expect all those close-ups, that total visibility of all those little details and facial expressions... It's so hard to get those secretly in an uncontrolled environment.
You usually have to cheat one way or another.
This is much better from an audiovisual point of view. A prepared space full of cameras and directional microphones.
You'd really swear the cameraman was RIGHT THERE sometimes.
I duck into the control room, they're checking the angles, the online editors cycling through the cameras.
A radio crackles again, and the stand ins appear. Some dude and a strung out girl with big tits.
"Okay, head to the chair... No the other one. NO the OTHER one... Okay, let's try on your knees... Get your head closer... Alright..." A turn. "Are we getting this?"
The Director comes in.
He is concerned about some shadows. People are dispatched.
The lighting's going to need to be as flat as possible, and the coverage as wide - price of this kind of unpredictable work, you never know where they might end up or what they might be doing there.
Gotta be prepared to get the best shot of her face twisting as she cums regardless of whether it's in the kitchen sink or face down on the living room floor.
A lot of tests follow.
They're unnecessary, really - there's already been days of preparation, but people - very wisely - want that final check. And, possibly more importantly, they want to burn time while they wait for...
The call comes, he's done.
The Director and I head back into the Body room.
This bit is really important, everyone steps aside to give me the best vantage point as the cocoon opens, and...
"Ooooooo! Your dick feels, like, SSOOOOOOO good on my tits! My lil pussy's ON FIRE!"
The really shocking thing is probably how little they actually change. He looked younger, of course. In the 19-21 year range, his skin soft and creamy. He was only a bit over five feet tall, with a lot of that in his shapely legs. His face was much more delicate, with a little pert nose and larger-seeming eyes.
... And, of course, he had pointy tits that he was thrusting out at us hard, a tight little tummy, a girlish hourglass figure, a bouncy butt...
Oh, and a cunt. A tight little virgin cunt and, a technician was confirming as she ran an ultrasound wand over his belly, fully formed ovaries and a cute little womb.
He responded with a wave of tinkling giggles. His voice has risen girlishly too.
On the whole, people might say that he looked like his own teenage daughter, but in reality children very rarely so resemble one of their parents. If someone who knew him saw this new version of him on the street, they'd do a double take.
It's an odd thing that's maybe hard to visualise unless you've seen it. I guess it's kind of like those Deep Thing videos where girls turn into Nicholas Cage or Mr Bean, but the gender-swapping version, and across the entire body.
Have you ever really looked hard at the before-and-after of those gender-swapping face filters? Noticed how incredibly similar the pictures really look, but somehow one is totally, undeniably, quintessentially female now?
Well, imagine running into it in the real world.
"O!M!G! How are boys so, like, YUMMMMY?????? Ooooooooooo! What if I just took my top off right now? Wouldn't that be just SO FUNNY?"
The Body Guys were clearly unhappy with the pitch of her voice, the Director wanted "90s Britney Spears breathing helium".
On the whole, there was still so much work to do.
Just making him a teenage girl was the easy part.
They crowded around and lifted him into a tub - the cocoon always leaves this nasty, sticky layer of goo over the skin. It smells different from anything else I've ever smelt and I've always gotten the strong sense you probably shouldn't inhale too deeply near it.
So they're scrubbing away now, he's giggling stupidly.
The hair?
The stylists are examining it: it's all grown back and it's fairly long, but they're going to have to use extensions.
"I need to taste your cock, baby! I just need to TASTE IT!..."
The guy with what looks like a tuning fork pokes her throat again and adjusts some dials
"Oooooo... Am I your little cocksucker, baby?"
We're well on the way to Helium Britney. The guy looks at the Director, then tries again.
"OMG how is sucking cocks SO FUN? It's like my favoritest thing EVA!!! God, my tongue is already just COATED in jizz! It's even better than I remember! I need to keep looking him in the eye so he knows what a total total slut I am! Gawd, I hope he cums on my face! Mmmmmm! It's SSOOOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"
He sounded like a Disney Princess on a sex line.
The Director eventually nodded.
They were transferring him to a massage table, people drying his body off with big, fluffy white towels.
He loved that.
The body sculptors were crowding around now, the Director pointing and giving instructions. They had their Expander/Contractor Wands out and ready.
His tits were pointy and decently sized, but that obviously wasn't going to cut it.
I zoomed in on his right breast as a sculptor started tracing circles around that big hard nipple. His eyes went even wider and his "Ooooooooo!" got even louder as his pink nipple poked up even more and the soft flesh around it started to rise like dough in the oven. He was gaining about a cupsize every two minutes. They were going slow and careful, living up to their 'Sculptor' title.
Enlarge one just enough in all the right places, then adjust the other one to match it.
As the Director was emphasising constantly, shape and symmetry is just as important as raw size.
"Mmmmmm... They're just jealous cause I'm so sexxxxxy!" The Target purred and arched his back, pushing his impressive new endowments in the air.
They worked on trimming his waist with the Contractor setting, and tightening The lines of his midriff and some musculature of his shoulders and neck.
Then they flipped him over to go to work on his little bubble-butt-to-be.
That's often a careful exercise in restraint, especially with such a short little subject. The roundness and perkiness is often more important than anything else. Gotta keep it proportional to the muscle lines of the upper body for that perfect 'bouncy hourglass' look.
They kept slapping the booty-in-progress as they worked, starting a fit of coos and giggles each time. You've gotta constantly check the firmness, the bounciness.
The Director had quite a spanking session, examining the resulting bubbly jiggle from all angles before signing off on the work.
The Target squealed breathily and begged for more the entire time, of course.
What a slut.
After they were done, the fine detail guys turned up. Their equipment much smaller and more delicate, they made one or two slight changes to his navel and nose and ears and the corners of his eyes, but they were really just warming up. They switched on Sensitizer mode, so they wouldn't just be encouraging growth, they'd be encouraging the growth of nerve endings, turning pretty much anything into an erogenous zone.
His lips were first.
His Oooooooooooooos were never more appropriate than as his lips puffed up.
Shape is even more important than size here, and these guys were the best.
You've doubtless seen a million bad puffy collagened duck lips.
Seeing the good ones you appreciate that these people are actual fucking artists.
They need to be big, but somehow give the impression that they're possibly natural, just freakish. If they're done just right, they never seem to entirely close, and just leave a slight constant impression of the front teeth... and the soft wet tongue... and the warm moist darkness of the throat.
A nun couldn't look at them without a strange sensual charge, as her subconscious mind - at least - visualises those lips wrapped around a dick.
As they were finishing up, he started licking his new lips with his quick little tongue, it eventually turning into slow, sensual laps, his tongue rolling delicately around the inside of his lips and he made strange breathy little delicate moans.
His pouting lips were now at least as sensitive as his dick had been this morning.
"He he he he he, pull my hair! Pull my hair, baby! Slap me in the face with your big scrummy cock and tell me what a BAAAAAD little girl I've been!"
His voice now had just the slightest, sweetest lisp.
He was flipped over and another team went to work on his asshole.
Gotta be just puckered enough, just tight enough, and definitely sensitive enough.
We had no way of knowing where the eager little whore we were making would get himself fucked raw - we were certainly planning for as many holes as possible - so they all had to be perfect.
He seemed to enjoy the process too - cooing and firming his buttocks and humping the massage table he was set up on.
"Mmmmmm... Teasing boys is, like, SO much fun! I lean right over so they can see riiiiiiiight down my top and up my skirt, then I look up suddenly and catch them licking their lips and staring! They get, like, SO embarrassed! It's so cute! I HAVE to let them know what a total slut I am! My pussy is DRIPPING and my nipples are ACHING! I NEEEEEEEEED someone to rip open my top and bend me over and just fuck me rough like the hot little slut that I am! I need it so BAD! God, I'm such a TOTAL! FUCKING! WHORE!" His giggles were getting a strange hungry edge to them.
The team consulted at length, of course, with the Director. The poked at and examined the Target's tight folds and hood and clitoris for quite some time before getting to work.
Gotta sculpt, gotta tighten, gotta shapen delicately, gotta sensitize, gotta moisten...
He loved this, of course. He sat up there, his legs kept spread wide and made the little Ooooooos that his bimbo lips were now designed for, shading into yips and girlish squeals and giggles and deep soul-and-big-titty-shaking moans as the work became more and more advanced.
"MMMMMM...!" He said appropriately towards the end: "I'm just a dumb fucktoy! I'm just, like, a hot little toy for the boys! I HOPE they like fucking me! I HOPE they think I'm just the sexiest little bitch! I just loooooooooove their yummy cocks sssooooooooooo much!!!"
The technicians checked his blood levels of the drug that causes that suggestible delirium, they were still high, as was pretty obvious from how loud and enthusiastic he was being, but they decided to still top him up slightly before the Body Guys finished off their work and passed him over to the stylists.
The Target was an incredibly sculpted writhing mass of pure, wanton sex at this point. His curves were frankly ludicrous even without their seemingly constant bounce and jiggle. His little hands were having a hard time deciding which ones to play with first.
He still had a very rough, bedraggled look though - like he had already been fucked roughly for hours. The stylists needed to briefly transform him into the "Before" picture.
"Oooooooooo! My name's Barbie! Like, for real! And my tits are huge! Isn't that, like, just SO funny?" He giggled up at them as they transferred him into a make-up chair.
His hair was a wet, lanky indeterminate shade of dishwater. It was shoulder-length, if uneven. The follicular stimulators would probably be too slow to transform him into the sunshine-blonde Rapunzel with ass-length tresses that the brief called for. A mixture of Follicular Stimulation and bonded hair extensions would be required. The hair would have to be matched to his initial colour, then all dyed together afterwards.
"Mmmmmm... I'm SUCH a bimbo! Ooooo! It gets my lil pussy so TINGLY and my nipples so BIG when people call me that! When they call me a bimbo... Or a slut... Or a skank... Or an idiot... Or a bad girl... Or a trollop... Or a tramp... Or a whore... OoooooOoooOooooooooo! I'm all HORNY now! I wonder if any nice yummy boys can help me with my drippy little pussy!"
As they tilted his head back to start on his hair, the costume people were taking final measurements for his outfit.
This stuff is mostly made custom, of course, and that can be difficult when the Target's final measurements are still shifting.
They ran tape measures around his hips and waist and bust - slapping his giggling hands away as they went - and consulted with each other and the Director.
Clothes, whether people admit it or not, are such an important part of porn.
They tell you who this delectable little bimbo is, both by how they look and how they get removed.
The hair stuff often takes quite a while, you get a bit of footage here and there, but it'll be heavily edited down.
I was about to go get a coffee when the nails people came in. I'm glad I was still there to get that. They could typically work simultaneously with the hair people, which is always a useful ability under a time crunch.
The order of the day was big and pink and glossy and bimbo, both for his fingernails and his toenails.
"He he he he he - if you stick it down my throat, I bet I can fit your balls in my mouth too! YAAAY!"
I went to take a break then.
I came back when they were blow-drying his new, ultra-luscious and silkily blonde locks. The dye job very careful looked just trashy enough. That's the real art form that people overlook - make it look like a perfect and completely natural imperfect and unnatural hairstyle.
He looked hot as fuck though, head tilted back and Oooooooing happily under the hot air. His nails were baby pink acrylic nightmares. Carefully judged to be ridiculous, but not too scary to have wrapped around your dick.
This is also an art form.
the tattoo artist turned up. He waited until the Target was ready to be happily deposited face down on his table, and broke out his needle.
The client's notion of a slutty bad girl was possibly a slightly dated one, but I suppose a tramp stamp of a combined butterfly and tribal symbol just above the swell of a perfect bubble butt, possibly combined with a barbwire pattern around one of her ankles and a little pink heart in the swell of a momentous cleavage never truly go out of trashy skank fashion.
The Target made little peeping sounds interspersed with giggles as the needle bit in, the tattooist had to occasionally slap one of his huge bouncy buttocks to quieten him down, every whack sending him jiggling for an incredible amount of time and leaving him stretched out, back arched and moaning erotically before the giggles inevitably started up again.
Costuming and make-up went off with minimal drama.
The look chosen was a pretty general one, perhaps a few years behind the times, as things as specific as fetishes often are.
I suppose in some way, we'll all always be captive to those first few years of teenage sexual awakening - those first things that we saw that gave us that funny tingly feeling in our suddenly oddly stiff little peepees.
Even decades later, those things still have an outsized presence in our masturbatory landscape, chiseled into the overlooking mountains like some vastly improved Mt Rushmore.
In this case, the specified look could perhaps be called "Generic 2000s Porn Starlet".
There's that particular outfit that seems to have somehow become the unofficial uniform of young bimbos who get banged in rented California mansions for the viewing pleasure of the Internet. Denim short-shorts - often cutoffs - with a pink or white tank top, carefully small enough to show off some combination of cleavage and midriff. Maybe the top of their bra as well, if they're not going braless under that thin fabric.
Combine that with some stripper platforms, golden hoop earrings, and heavy makeup and you have the camera-pouting face of fresh meat for the online porn grinder.
The Target's costume stuck pretty close to this look: his underwear was baby pink and satiny, both his bra straps and a matching whale tail would be easily visible, his tank top was white and thin enough that his bra was visible through it, his shorts were VERY short cutoffs - the kind that's rough and leaves the interior pockets dangling down - I guess that's a look associated with White Trash in some areas? - The fact that most of the cheeks of his big round ass were bulging out beneath the cut definitely is.
They'd had to engineer the shorts especially - not only so they'd be painted-on tight, but because they - very fittingly - were clearly intended to have been male shorts at one point. They had a big metal fly that was fully unzipped and was pulled tightly open by the spread of the Target's new womanly hips and bubble butt. His skimpy pink thong only barely hid what was revealed, and would wiggle teasingly with his every lazy step.
Overall, the main distinguishing feature of the costume, other than its possibly unusually extreme sluttiness, was the height of his stripper heels. I suppose he was such a dainty little thing now that he needed the height back.
The only thing that really gave any trouble was the bra. Those things are masterpieces, by the way - each handcrafted by a team of engineers. They had to be just perfectly sized and shaped to give just the RIGHT overflow of tit. The straps were made from a bouncy, rubber substance that lifts perfectly, while imparting and exaggerating the natural BOUNCE of the assets. Done perfectly, the target jiggles noticeably just from their slight natural teetering on their slut heels.
Perhaps subtle, but makes dicks into diamond - believe me.
Initially, it was felt that some combination of the shape of the Target's breasts, his top, and his bra just wasn't giving enough SPILL. Calipers were brought out, people measured and tutted as the Target cooed and giggled and announced "I LOOOOOOVE it on my face, baby! Yeah, pwetty pwetty pwease cum on your wittle babygirl's face! Mmmmmmmmm!!!"
Eventually, the top's neckline was lowered slightly, and the bra straps were tightened by literally 2 millimetres.
Perfection is a slow process, but boy is it worth it.
Make-up might as well have been Homer Simpson's makeup shotgun on full "whore" mode. Lots of pinks with that glossy wet-look that's all the rage. Imparts lips and cheeks and eyelids with an appearance something between a perfectly ripe fruit and the icing of a strawberry donut.
People were already packing up their equipment when the Director finally signed off on the look.
The Target was prepped.
LOTS of important details for me to film now.
The call was being made as the Target was transferred to the living room, final camera and sound checks were happening all around.
People rushing everywhere.
Eventually, the call came through, the Mark was on his way.
The Director called for evacuation of the Set. Everyone pulled back out of the room, out of visibility. As a final sweep was taking place to ensure that nothing noticeably ODD had been left in sight, the final technicians came in and prepared to fully finish the Target.
They sprayed a light mist into his face from a spraycan, waited until he was lightly dozing, then removed the headphones.
Everyone was pulled back, everything was ready.
The Director gave the finalization order, and a technician carefully waited until his associates were out of the room before opening his last, hermetically sealed box and removing the perfume bottle.
He swiftly and stiffly applied four quick spurts and withdrew.
You always need to do that absolutely last - no one would be able to approach the Target from now on without a ventilator.
That perfume contains an aphrodisiac powerful enough to turn an octagenarian priest into a mindlessly rutting animal in minutes. I was accidentally exposed to it once on a job and... Long story short... It's no joke.
...Well, the technician started to withdraw. Then a smirk came across his face, and he turned long enough to grab the Target's hand and stuff those long-nailed fingers down the front of those sexy little denim shorts.
The Target cooed naughtily in his sleep, and the technician departed, snickering.
This is the main event, of course - for everyone but me. Apart from one or two behind the scenes shots from the control room for completeness sake, my job is now largely over.
Nothing to do but just watch, along with everyone else.
I was in the back of the control room, the Target was up on the big screen. A wide master shot, showing him snoozing on a lounge chair in a perfectly normal-looking mansion living room.
His hand was rubbing delicately in his pants, he was making little giggles and coos in his sleep as his girlish fingers explored his brand-new fucktoy topology.
Just lying there, he was bimboslut perfection. I promise everyone watching already had a raging boner.
...Aaaaaaaand... The knock at the door.
Sleeping Bimbo stirred slightly.
It came again, louder.
His eyes opened.
He just sat there for a moment, delicate hand down the front of his denim short-shorts, tits instinctively outthrust.
Then he giggled idiotically, and his hand started to visibly rub away. His giggle cut off slightly, and he instead bit at one of his plump lips as he quickly discovered the usefulness of such long acrylic bimbo nails when dealing with a hypersensitive little clitoris like his.
A little proto-moan bubbled up his throat as the rubbing continued.
He bit at that lip harder.
A third knock.
"Hello, anyone home?" A voice called.
A deep, male voice.
The rubbing stopped, his eyes widened.
He giggled again as he reluctantly withdrew the hand. "I'm SUCH a silly little slut!" he quietly whispered to himself as he stood up, unthinkingly sucking his fingers clean.
He was unsteady on his big ridiculous pink stripper heels, giggling louder and pushing his little arms and huge tits out for balance. For a second, it seemed like he'd fall backwards onto his big bouncy behind, but he straightened and started teetering towards the door, his tiny mincing steps putting even more jiggle into his chest.
For his first time in heels, let alone nine inch platforms, he did pretty well.
The knock came again as he approached. "Ooooh - I'm coming.... I'm COMING!!!" He squeaked breathily as he reached the knob and clung to it.
It took him a moment to throw the door open, revealing...
He'd been found specially, of course, carefully to spec.
Local plumber. Young, kind of rugged looking, kind of handsome. Definitely muscular.
The closest approximation of the porn archetype we could find to unwittingly drop into this carefully engineered situation.
The Director nodded and the view cut to a hidden external camera.
There our Target could be seen, leaning against the doorframe, hip cocked, wide eyes blinking up into the light and the face of...
Cut back.
The plumber was startled, his mouth slightly ajar. His eyes darted down, unconsciously appraising the incredible wealth of plump cleavage that was angled perfectly for his inspection, before guiltily trying to jump back up to that perfect face. Those lust-hooded eyes, those moist and pouting lips.
Even with those slut heels the Target was dainty next to him. The perfect petite ratio for maximum inspection.
A hungry little noise lazily slipped from behind those beestung lips, those moist delicately parted glossy lips...
The plumber visibly collected himself and tried to proceed as normal.
"Hello, is your father home?"
The blank but hungry stare burned back up at him, the only response being the slow lick of her lips.
His gaze fought to resist slipping back down her top.
He tried again. "Did you call for a plumber? Something about a blocked sink?"
The girl giggled, teasingly. One of her hands moving to adjust her plunging neckline, sliding slowly across the surrounding topology, seeming to stop to circle a rock hard nipple.
It was too early for him to be really feeling the effects of her perfume, but he was already struggling.
"...Is... Is anyone else there?" He continued, his voice slightly strained.
For the first time, something else briefly seemed to cross this teen temptation's face. Her brow creased slightly and very attractively, her eyes turned away from his for just a moment as she seemed to ponder the room she was standing inside.
She bit her lip again. First for thought, then clearly because she just decided she liked it.
She suddenly looked back, a bright look on her face.
She giggled like a naughty little girl, and quickly shook her head, blonde locks dancing.
"I'm all alone, Mister" she breathed.
Her voice was somehow higher than he would have expected, but was also just perfect.
She stood back from the door, teetering on her heels, implicitly inviting him in.
"Please..." She giggled again quietly. "I really need a man to help..."
He swallowed. He'd been doing this for a while, though. He'd seen stuff like this before...
I mean, not LIKE THIS... Not LIKE HER... Who the fuck would have even...
But he'd seen THIS.
The bored teenage girls of rich men sometimes found it funny to tease the Help. Especially the young and muscular Help. Especially if they knew it would piss off Daddy.
This might be a slightly... Um... EXTREME case, but he'd handled this kind of thing before.
You just need to ignore it. Just wait for them to get bored.
Just be A PROFESSIONAL.
"Okay," he nodded casually. "I'll need to get some tools from the truck.
...It was the kitchen sink, if I recall?"
The vision just giggled idiotically. "I'm a silly little tease!" She declared proudly, as if it was the cleverest thought ever.
He mentally rolled his eyes and went off to get his tools.
She seemed even dimmer and more easily distracted than that last one... What was her name? There was no way she'd be hanging around to watch him unblock a pipe. Giggly trophy wives to be were too...
But she did.
She followed him all around, teetering and taking silly little steps in her absolutely ridiculous shoes, always trailing behind, always giggling softly to herself, her eyes always locked onto his...
He eventually spoke up when they were in the kitchen.
He'd turned around suddenly and bumped into her. She'd predictably teetered and giggled, and maybe less predictably declared "Oooooooooo! My name's Barbie! Like, for real! And my tits are huge! Isn't that, like, just SO funny?"
He'd grabbed her, hands on her shoulders in a no-nonsense, adult-to-possibly-drunken-child way, and tried to sound authoritative.
"Now look," he'd said "I need to work here and you are..."
He'd bumped her perfect silky hair, and a loose tendril of it had slipped down over one of her eyes. She continued to look up at him, giggly euphoria mixed with deep, profoundly deep, wordless NEED.
She was panting slightly, just from his touch.
He suddenly became acutely aware of just how warm she felt, how soft her skin was beneath his grasp.
Of how her breasts were still moving visibly from the bump of several moments past.
Of the incredible smell of her, of her hair, of her skin, of her...
His nostrils twitched.
What was that perfume?
He suddenly became aware just then - as he held her smaller, warmer body so close to his - became aware of the fact that he had been painfully erect for quite some time.
Erect like a steel beam.
...And he wasn't the only one who was now aware.
Her gaze slipped down, her hand moved along his waist, her long nails tracing, encircling...
Her gaze flew back up.
"Oooo" her glossed lips formed, quietly, breathlessly. "Ooooooooooo..."
Huge blue eyes blinked up at him through her disturbed hair, their sight drunk with desire.
"Ooooo...."
He picked her up like a child, she jumped in perfect concert, her long legs wrapping around his waist, panting as she rubbed herself against him.
Their lips met. Their bodies slammed against the sink, the counter, the wall.
Her top tore with the force of his grasp, he could feel her giggle around the tongue in his mouth, her bared tits were thrust so hard into his chest be could feel the marble hardness of her nipples.
Suddenly, she pulled from his grasp, slipping down the length of his body and ending up on her knees before him.
Her nails flailed at his crotch.
"I need to taste your cock, baby!" She wailed up at him. "I NEED TO TASTE IT!"
He rushed to help her, dizzy with lust, but even with her fucking ridiculous nails and the wild clumsiness of her need, she still beat him to it.
His fly lowered. She gaped, a line of actual drool falling onto her bared tits, her eyes crossed hard.
A second later, his pants hit the floor.
"Ooooooh..." She breathed, staring in actual stunned worship. "Ooooooooooohhhhh!"
He was pretty huge too. I saw the Director unconsciously nod in something like approval.
She was licking it, hungrily. Looking up at his face finally from her very natural-seeming position on her knees.
"Oooo - am I your little cocksucker, Daddy?" She giggled around her treat. "Oh! I bet if you shove your dick waaaaaaaay down my hot little throat, then..." She was interrupted by the animalistic growl with which he grabbed her head and started thrusting.
She giggled sloppily around the hot cock being forced past her tonsils, and started automatically bobbing her head and tensing her lips in response.
God, she was a fucking slut.
Even the slightly befuddled, surprised look deep in her huge eyes as she gazed up at him, feeling the sensations of his manhood visibly stretching her throat, couldn't detract from her shameless wantonness.
He was making a sound now - deep in his chest. Something between a grunt and a gargle and a growl.
He thrust harder and harder, her slurps and giggles being turned into ever deeper murmurs and gurgles as his impressive cock quested ever deeper into her tight, hot, virgin throat.
He was starting to shake, thick beads of sweat running down his face. His frenzy was already overpowering... But it was, of course, also barely beginning.
With a roar, he yanked himself free, a rope of pre-cum splattering across the kneeling bimbo's heavily made-up face.
"OH YEAH, BABY!" She gasped, "COME ON ME, COME ALL OVER MY...."
He wasn't listening.
He grabbed her, spun her, and tossed her like a giggling toy against the counter.
She flew forwards and was left bending over hard, her tits cushioning her impact more than adequately.
She was still giggling in her trademark brainless way when he ripped her tiny shorts and joke panties into useless rags falling around her ankles, and thrust home on his primal target.
Her giggling stopped.
Her eyes and mouth were so wide. She was so... FULL. Full in a way she'd never been before. Full in a way that shouldn't have been possible.
The counter she was bent over was such an obvious porn-y location that we'd naturally installed a good-quality camera immediately opposite it.
Perfect placement too, as it turned out.
This bit is always worth seeing.
You see, despite her carefully (and expertly!) constructed slutty whore persona, she was actually quite inexperienced in such things.
In those highly specific sensations. The sensations bursting into her silly little head right now.
Her silly little virgin head.
"Oo-O..." She tried. Her eyes wider than anyone would ever have thought possible.
Her lips were pulled into the perfect "O".
"OoooOooOOoooo..."
It was quieter now. Not performative.
Her lips twitched.
"Oooooo..." It was almost a whisper.
She was so tight. So plump. Ssoooo juicy. So deep. So perfectly soft and welcoming and warm...
"Oooooooooooooooooo..."
This time, her eyes rolled slightly.
She'd never felt this before. Never ANYTHING like this. Never even imagined it.
She was full. She was FULL. SO full.
Full like a Tight. Hot. Innocent. Dripping. Crammed. Stuffed. Stunned. Little. Virgin. Girl.
"ooooOoooo..."
Her lips were still just as perfectly round, but this time something shifted perceptibly in her expression.
Away from pure shock.
She bit down on her lower lip, and with a strange little sound from deep down, she unconsciously angled her body slightly. Just slightly adjusting the angle at which she was taking that crazed, jackhammering manhood deep within her.
It was tickling her fizzy little clitty. It was poking her cute little womb.
"O-Uuu-A-ooOuoooo"
The sound was starting to break up, become lost in her panting. It sounded the beginning of a transition from a coo to a moan to a SQUEAL.
A squeal that was not long in coming.
And neither was she.
And neither was he.
But that didn't stop them. Not for an instant. There is no refractory period in this kind of induced frenzy.
He jumped on top of her on the counter, her stripper heels being forced high in the air as they grappled, him lying and thrusting heavily on the insatiable whore moaning and begging and squealing beneath him.
Her greedy cunt was already feeling pleasantly looser.
Afterwards, on the floor, she sucked him into hardness - or tried to, as she giggled and grabbed for the cock that he was slapping in her face.
He came in her mouth. He came on her tits. He positively wrecked her ass.
We got it from every angle, every second.
Her cross-eyed ecstatic yips, tacky earrings swinging, hair flying.
Her constant ridiculous squealing and begging and exclamations: "Fill up my lil pussy, Daddy! Pwetty pwetty pwease!" ,"I'm such a BAAAD little girl! Such a Dirty lil slutty slut! You'll spank me, won't you? You'll spank your naughty lil girl's big naughty ass, won't you daddy?", "Ooooo! I'm such a total whore! I'm just a dumb cocksucker! I'm a worthless cumguzzling bimbo! I just love dicks SO much!"
The sheer, wanton hunger in her eyes as she jacked him off all over her face... And her hair... and her tits...
He discovered that the kitchen sink wasn't, in fact, blocked after about an hour when he mindlessly shoved his head under it and began gulping down big, desperate mouthfuls of water. In his urge to avoid his imminent dehydration, briefly slurping almost as loudly and thirstily as the girl panting and fingering and whining at his feet had been.
Eventually, the Director decided we'd gotten enough.
Our plumber was starting to actually weep with exhaustion from his ceaseless thrusting and unquenchable cravings.
SHE, of course, was still ready and willing and begging - just less coherently, if possible, than earlier.
They didn't even look up as the hazmat-suited men entered the room from behind them and sprayed them into unconsciousness from their spraycans.
The room was filled with as much perfume neutralizing compound as OH&S would allow, as our leading man was carried from the room to the applause of all.
He'd soon wake up in his truck a few streets away with a tequila bottle in his hand, a hangover, a vague memory of an uneventful job, and a very inexplicably chafed penis.
I put on a mask to dull any residual effects from the perfume and went out with the rest of the clean-up crew.
This part is much leaner than the set-up of course - who wants to watch the tidying up after the porn? But, the initial position of the Target is always a very important visual.
She was lying, half-curled up, gently fellating her thumb, sleeping like a lamb.
She was naked apart from her jewellery, big hoop earrings, and stripper heels.
Her hair was a sticky frightwig, her face was GLAZED - there's no other word for it - in cum, as was most of her upper and much of her lower body.
Especially around her mouth and eyes, the sticky shine of jizz was laid on so thick, mixing with her running, smeared make-up. Mascara was dribbling in lines down her face, her lipstick was joker-level. The thumb that she was alternating between gently tonguing and trying to thrust down her throat slipped down between her legs momentarily, and returned coated in a thick, sticky substance that brought the slightest happy, sleepy coo and giggle from between her lips as she returned to sucking it.
It was gold. I got it all before the team scooped her onto the stretcher to carry back into the "Changing Room". Already, the cleaners were appearing, mops and sponges and brooms already clattering.
I got a bit of footage, but left most of it up to the time-lapse in the cocoon.
A few hours later, he was cleaned up, mostly put back the way he'd been before. The brief specified leaving his dick an inch or two shorter, and him just slightly shorter, balder, and paunchier than previously.
Nothing particularly noticeable to anyone other than him.
I went along as he was quietly driven back and left slumped on his couch, surrounded by liquor bottles and a few bottles of pills we found in his drawer.
He'd wake up the next morning confused, with a raging but oddly diminished erection, and an inexplicable and disturbing and incredibly sexual memory of what could only possibly be a dream.
A dream that would linger in his mind.
In fact, despite its bizarre and frankly disgusting and disturbing nature, he wouldn't be able to keep it from often popping into his mind during his future masturbation sessions.
That strange, gross dream and the memories of impossibly incandescent pleasure and hunger and ecstasy and lust that seemed to go along with it.
In fact, with that kind of self-hatred that just makes it even hotter, he would perhaps find himself searching for porn scenes that depicted a particular set-up, with a particular kind of trashy, whorish girl.
...And, one day, while searching would come across an anonymously uploaded clip cut from an uncertain source. A clip that showed an oddly familiar-looking room. A clip that quickly zeroed in on the sluttiest girl that he'd ever seen. Like a sleazy, edgy early-2000s teen comedy parody of a pornstar, but then amplified further and put back into actual porn.
A girl who could probably be gorgeous, if she wasn't so shameless, so totally slutty, so embarrassingly overdone, overstuffed. Her gravity-defying melon tits were already jiggling their way out of her joke of a little top, her ass was basically bared under her tiny slut-shorts.
She was tattooed, heavily made-up, and already panting as she teetered on ridiculous heels and flirted embarrassingly with some idiot dressed as a plumber. He threw herself at him, her top literally popping, and quickly ended up on her knees begging "to taste it". The camera zooms in on her stupid face as he rams between her lips, and her huge, silly eyes cross completely and her continued helium babbling is reduced to muffled murmurs and moans.
...And you could see that he doesn't need to thrust his hips or the hands in her hair, she's doing it all herself. You can see absolutely and unquestionably that, unlike all the other porn you've ever watched, this girl isn't faking it. This girl is too fucking dumb for that.
This girl is a genuine, shameless cock-drunk whore.
... And he'd jerk back in shock, his shrunken dick harder than it's ever been.
Not just from the incredible, inexplicable sense of RECOLLECTION, but because some part of his mind would register a certain unexplainable sense of SIMILARITY between the bimbo-face distorting in ecstasy as it's sprayed with cum, and his own gaping features.
...And then, soon after, he'd meet again with that business associate.
The one he'd had that little run-in with a while back.
And somehow, as he looked up and saw the smug, self-satisfied smirk across that face as it looked him up-and-down, he would have a brief irrational moment of fear when he would feel that, somehow, this man had seen it all. Had seen that strange dream, and his subsequent disgusted fantasies, and that video that he had saved and constantly searched for the rest of (...When he wasn't ashamedly and frenziedly beating off to it...)
But that idea is just silly, of course.
