I sat on the idea for a week and let it stew.
The whole concept was antithetical to me. I was born and raised feminist; I’m an introvert by nature; I’ve never liked having my picture taken; and I’m so compulsively private I don’t even have a Facebook page. But in a weird way, the idea was naggingly intriguing. I couldn’t quite let it go.
Heh. If my mom had any idea that I was even considering the notion, she’d have a coronary. Heh heh.
The only reason I was even considering it was that I’d looked through their website and I really liked their stuff. All the models looked like real people, attractive guys and girls, and they all looked like they were really into each other and having fun. It was like getting to watch your hot neighbors having sex.
That and the money. According to the ad, if I actually went out and did this thing, I wouldn’t have to work at all for at least a month. More if I laid low. I could spend all that time writing. Or sleeping late and sitting around all day in my panties surfing porn. Whichever I wanted.
Their ‘headquarters’ was a small, slightly shabby looking vinyl-sided suburban house deeply buried in the hinterlands of the northern suburbs. Hand-printed lettering on the mailbox identified the place as ‘R&M Video Concepts’. There was a neat little vegetable garden in the front yard. A roughly spherical, white-haired older lady was down on her hands and knees in freshly turned dirt. She appeared to be stringing up peas. She had the kind of wrinkles around her eyes that said she smiled and laughed a lot. She kind of reminded me of Mrs. Claus.
“Here to audition Hon?”
“Go right on in, the door’s not locked. And, Sweetie, don’t let Roger get to you. He’s harmless, just a grouchy old pervert, that’s all.”
The house was furnished, well, as if it had been decorated by a pair of aging swingers who had stalled out in 1979. Orange shag carpeting and all. There was a plastic sign adhered to one of the doors that read ‘OFFICE’. The sign looked like it might have been pilfered from a motel. Next to the sign was a sticker that read ‘Sit On A Happy Face’.
If the nice lady out front looked like Santa Claus, the guy in the office sitting at the desk looked like Santa’s sourpuss accountant. He was a shriveled-looking withered little old troll with hairy ears and a grey dusty-looking suit. When I shut the door behind me, he looked up testily from behind a computer that looked like it had come off the USS Missouri.
“Yes… Can I help you?”
“I’m… um, here about the ad?”
“Oh yes, of course you are. Well let’s get it over with. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He glared at me expectantly across the desk.
“You’re asking me to disrobe?”
“Well we do make pornography here. Yes, I need to see your junk before I offer you the job. God help us.”
Wow. I mean, I knew I’d have to get naked at some point if I were actually going to go through with this. I just hadn’t expected it to be so blunt… or grouchy. Oh well, what the hell: in for a dime, in for a dollar I guess. I took a deep breath and started taking off my clothes. I’d never stripped naked in front of a complete stranger before. I guess I had imagined the experience being either liberating or mortifying. In reality, it was much more banal. I felt like a cadaver being sized up by the county medical examiner.
“Hmm…” he said, picking up his glasses off the blotter and putting them on. They only emphasized how oversized his hairy ears were. “Not too bad… cute tits. Turn around…. Ok, you got the gig. You’re going to have to do something about that bush though. Maybe you can borrow Martha’s hedge trimmer. She keeps it in the shed out back.”
He shoved a contract and a bunch of paperwork across the desk at me.
“Can I get dressed now?”
“Oh by all means, please do! Be my guest!”
“Um, you aren’t going to be there in person for the filming, are you?”
He didn’t answer, only looked balefully up at me from behind his computer, which I was pretty sure, was an antique TRS-80. “My dear,” he said icily, “As much as I’d love to watch you fuck, my herpes has been acting up lately.” For the first time he flashed me a smile, a thin, grudging little smile. “I would so hate to aggravate it, so I suppose I’ll have to pass.”
My ob/gyn is a tiny little Vietnamese woman, about ten years older than me. When I explained why I needed the full exam, she tut-tutted. Then we both got the giggles. “Have fun!” she said, “Enjoy it, why not! You have fun.”
Roger could go fuck himself. I wasn’t going to wax my pussy for that nasty old troll. But I did give it a serious trim. Nothing like knowing that your far-from-perfect naked body and private parts are going to be on view for the entire interweb to peruse to make a girl a little obsessive about her personal grooming. I thought about going on a diet, and then figured I was just making myself crazy. I ordered a pizza for delivery and ate half the pie myself, saving the leftovers for breakfast.
The lab work all came back negative. All that was left was for me to sit around the apartment and wait.
The phone rang. It was Martha.
“Hi Sweetie, what’s your schedule like? We had a cancellation, and I was wondering if you might be able to drop by this afternoon…? Fine, I’ll see you then. Make sure and take a shower first.”
I took about six.
Roger was nowhere to be seen, much to my relief. Martha met me at the door, bustled me upstairs to a tastefully decorated bedroom crammed full to bursting with a king size bed, klieg lights, boom mic, camera tripod, mixing board, and a spaghetti mess of cables. The walls were painted baby blue and there were white lace curtains over the window. A tall, skinny guy with thin black hair and a receding hairline sat fidgeting on the edge of the crisply-made bed.
“Get to know each other for a few minutes,” Martha said, “I’ll be right back with the video camera. Ta!” And she bustled out of the room, closing the door behind her.
We looked at each other.
It was an awkward moment. In a few minutes, we’d be having sex with each other. I’m not sure which of us felt more nervous. I felt like I was visibly shaking. ‘At least,’ I thought, ‘at least he’s reasonably cute.’
“So,” he asked after an almost physically painful pause, “Is this your first time too?”
I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice.
“My name’s Tiberius,” he said, “But you can call me Tiberius. Sorry, bad joke. I’m a little nervous.”
“Me too!” I smiled and sat down on the bed next to him, “More than a little nervous.”
“You don’t need to be,” he said, “You’re really cute. And I don’t bite.”
I laughed, and he laughed too, and that seemed to break the ice. He had a nice laugh, kind of geeky and honest. We talked a little bit. He was a few years older than me; he was originally from Oregon; he had an MFA in sculpture but worked in a coffee shop; his work was very informed by Giger and Lovecraft; he had an exhibition at a tiny gallery in an un-hip part of Brooklyn. I found myself thinking that, in other circumstances, he was the kind of guy I’d want to date, but who would be too shy to ask me out.
“Listen,” he said, “After we’re done… doing what we’re going to do today… do you think you’d like to go out sometime?”
“Like on a date?”
“Yeah, like that. I’d like to buy you a drink.”
“Sure!” I said. “I’d love to see your exhibit.” He gave me a card with his name, email, and phone number on it. “We’re going about all this a little backward, don’t you think?”
“I guess so,” he blushed a little and smiled sweetly, “Hey, when we’re actually doing it… is there anything I should avoid, anything you don’t like?”
“Oh no,” I said, “I’m pretty open. Surprise me!”
“Ok,” he said, “I hope I’m not too freaky for you.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said, “You’d have to be pretty weird to freak me out. And I can be pretty freaky myself, you know.” I tried to smile wolfishly. I don’t know whether I was successful.
Martha bustled back into the room, a big video camera balanced on her shoulder.
“Okay kids,” she said, “It’s showtime!”
“You kids just go ahead and have fun and pretend I’m not here, ok?”
Tiberius stood up, offering me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up next to him. I could feel his body heat next to me. He was strong, and his tall, lean body pressed up against mine felt so good. I could see his erection, outlined in his black jeans, and it looked delicious.
He kissed me, and I kissed him boldly back, fucking his mouth with my tongue. He pulled me closer to him, kissing me hard, his hands exploring down my back, further and further, until they were squeezing my butt. He had big, sexy hands, sculptor’s hands.
I had already completely forgotten about Martha and her camera. My entire focus was on Tiberius. I was being more aggressive than I normally would ever have been. We were there to fuck, and to put on a good show, so what the hell, I figured. I stepped back from him, breaking the kiss, and pulled my purple floral top off over my head. I’d bought matching red lace bra and panties especially for this. My denim shorts fell to the floor. I noted with pleasure that Tiberius was gawking at me.
We fell onto the bed together. I was all over him. I stuck my hand inside his black t-shirt and played with his tight little nipples. I rubbed his cock through the front of his jeans while we kissed. I was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing any underpants. I reached behind my back, unsnapping my bra and setting the girls free. His dick was straining at the fabric that enclosed it. It had been a while since I’d had a real live penis to play with. And this one was going to take me out on a date afterward. This was turning out to be even more fun than I had anticipated! With one finger, I traced the length of his shaft up and down through his black denim jeans. I could feel every ridge, every texture.
“Oh fuck,” Tiberius moaned, “Oh God… Oh fuck…!” He disengaged from me, rising up onto his knees and running his hands through his hair, his face a mask of ecstasy and agony.
I guessed he was coming in his pants, which was actually pretty hot, and made me flush a little with pride: I caused that! I guessed we’d have to stop filming and take a little break and start over again in a while, but that was really fine by me. He’d have more stamina the next time around.
Tiberius threw his head back and moaned wordlessly. He was already tall, and even on his knees he seemed to loom over me. He seemed to grow as I watched, until he towered inhumanely above me.
His moan trailed off into a bubbling, hissing gurgle. As I watched, petrified, his face started to transform. His eyes grew larger and rounder, the pupils expanding until they were a couple of bulging saucer-sized disks, black as two pools of interstellar void. His nose disappeared, melting into his flesh; and his mouth, those sexy full lips, became a curved, snapping beak-thing.
I glanced over at Martha, who was clutching her video camera like a photojournalist in the teeth of a hurricane. ‘If we survive this,’ I remember thinking, ‘she should win a Pulitzer.’
He ripped his stretchy black t-shirt off over his head and a writhing forest of tentacles exploded from his abdomen. They were flesh-pink, covered in suckers, and ranged in thickness from the size of an asparagus stalk to the thick branch of an oak tree. They rushed greedily toward me, swaying, groping, probing, full of intelligent desire.
Tendrils wrapped around my arms and legs, affixing themselves to my flesh with hundreds of powerful suction cups. I couldn’t move now, no way. The tentacles were warm and strong, pure sinuous muscle. It was as if I were lashed to the bed. A thin tentacle wrapped around my neck; once, twice, three times, threatening to restrict my breathing. The tip, barely the size of my pinky finger, stroked my lower lip flirtatiously.
Other tentacles were wrapping themselves around my body, augmenting the bonds that held me tight. I felt my legs forced apart, wide, wider, until it felt like my tendons were going to rip. I thought my hips were going to pop right out of their sockets. Prehensile tendrils ripped off my underwear, tearing my fancy new panties into lacy red shreds. My cunt was spread wide open, my clitoris felt like it was standing straight up. I could actually see it, a little pink nubbin, if I craned my neck. The air in the room was cool on my soaking wet pussy. I was drenched down there, I could tell. It felt like I was already sitting in a puddle of my own come.
More tentacles came at me, stroking my face, tickling my ears and the insides of my elbows, caressing my calves. Tentacles squeezed my breasts like Japanese bondage, forcing my tits up and out until my nipples were pointed skyward, red and swollen to the point of bursting. A fat tendril forced its way into my mouth, wrestling playfully with my tongue.
A tentacle, or tentacles, traced my butt crack, forcing my ass cheeks apart. I felt an irresistible force pushing against my anus, infiltrating my asshole. The slick, slimy tentacle eagerly wormed its way up my butt, stretching my ass to the absolute limit. It felt like it was the size of my freaking forearm!
I realized that I was screaming, and stopped, choking off in mid-howl. What was happening to me certainly wasn’t painful, and it had become almost too surreal to be actually scary anymore. And it felt good. The wriggling, squirming thing in my butthole was causing some absolutely exquisite sensations; the delicate little tendrils that were now curling around my nipples and hypnotically stroking my inner thighs felt amazing. My clit was swollen and distended. My cunt positively ached for touch.
He unbuttoned his jeans, shucking them off and away with spindly arms that seemed to be withering away like vestigial limbs; de-evolution at warp-speed. As I’d suspected earlier, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. There were tentacles, more tentacles, a writhing mass of them; and at the heart of that undulating forest was something else. It wasn’t a penis, and it wasn’t another tentacle. It was like a great animate stamen, an alien, tubular, bulbous thing, and it was coming toward me like a serpent, weaving back and forth like a cobra about to strike.
I knew exactly where it was headed, too.
The thing was physically hot against my flesh; its touch was just this side of painful. It insinuated itself into my cunt. The tube-thing was neither as hard nor as rigid as a penis; it was like being penetrated by an extrusion of molten magma.
I grunted as the stamen-thing buried itself in my cunt. As soon as it was all the way inside, it started swelling and pulsing. The tentacles binding me flexed in time with it. It was growing, longer and thicker, like an expanding balloon, and it was stretching my pussy almost to the tearing point. The fatter it got, the more violently it moved inside me. The tentacle up my ass was still writhing, twisting around. More tentacles were holding my mouth open. Things were completely out of control. My stomach bulged with the alien things inside my body. I was screaming again, but I wasn’t screaming in pain or fear. I was going to have an orgasm, a righteous, massive orgasm. My clit felt like a beacon, a lighthouse on a wave-battered cliff.
Tiberius-thing was fucking me with his stamen, so hard now that he was picking me up by the cunt and slamming me back down on the bed. I was sobbing, weeping, gurgling through my tears as I came and came and came again, a pounding waterfall of continuous orgasm. My body shook and heaved as the thing used me, slamming me up and down, fucking me down to my component atoms. I realized in a dim, lucid corner of my mind, that I couldn’t take much more of this.
He bellowed, the kind of shriek a bird of prey makes as dives onto a stricken bunny in a grassy field, and the appendage that was distending my cunt went rigid. I felt it come, pumping hot fluid into me as if from a fire hose. It squirted and squirted, leaking out onto my thighs and oozing down the crack of my ass. Finally, it went limp, and I felt the tentacles slowly start to disengage.
I was incoherent. I watched through lidded eyes as the thing exited my gaping cunt, the various tentacles and appendages and tendrils retreating back into Tiberius’ body. I was fingering my poor neglected clitoris, coming again, but more sedately, as his body re-absorbed the tentacles, and his face melted back into human form.
Tiberius was drenched in sweat, hollow and shaky as if he had just run a marathon. He collapsed onto the bed beside me. I could feel his heart pounding. His breath came in desperate ragged gasps. I was covered in come, lying in a puddle of the stuff, as if someone had dumped a five gallon bucket of semen on my pelvis. My nipples stiffened and my gut clenched as I fingered myself to one last orgasm. I kissed him softly on his sweaty lips.
“Well!” Martha said, finally setting her camera down, “Now that was different!”
I would have put the whole thing down to some bizarre hallucination if it hadn’t been for the bruises. My cunt and asshole were sore, my nipples and clit were tender; and my body was covered in circular purple bruises that ranged from dime to half-dollar size.
Dr. Nguyen, my gyn, tut-tutted at the bruising. “Kinky!” she grinned up at me; but she couldn’t find anything wrong. “You have safe sex!” she admonished me as I stiffly left the examination room. “Have fun but do it safe, ok?”
All the lab work came back just fine.
The check was waiting for me in my mailbox when I got home. It was made out for a thousand dollars more than I had expected.
I had about decided that I had made the whole episode up, fading bruises and all, when the video went live on their website.
I had expected to be mortified, watching myself get laid; but instead I found it difficult to identify myself with the half-naked girl on the bed who was kissing on the tall, black-clad guy. Tiberius really was a good-looking guy, I thought, way more photogenic than me.
And then the transformation. It was hot. I don’t even particularly like that kind of anime, and it was hot. I felt myself getting all moist and turned-on, watching my body being taken, ravished and fucked by that weird octopus-alien-monster-yuggoth-thing. I knew what everyone who watched the video must be asking themselves: how did they do that? It looked like it might be really high-end computer animation.
I called Tiberius on the number he’d given me. It was a cell phone.
“So, you still going to buy me that drink? I think you owe me at least two…”
“Um, sure. Does that mean you still want to go out with me?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’d like to see your exhibit at the gallery.”
“Ok! Whatcha doing tonight?”
“Nothing, I’m totally free. … Um, so, ah, how often do you do that? The transformation thing?”
“It only happens when I get over-excited.”
“And how often do you get over-excited?”
“I’m not really sure. I haven’t been with a girl in… kind of a long time.”
“Ok. See you at eight? And remember: you owe me at least two drinks!”
The phone rang. I thought it was Tiberius with second thoughts, calling back to cancel out of our date.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” It was Roger, and he was being halfway civil. Almost friendly. “We’d like you to do another video. A girl-girl scene. The pay rate’s the same.”
“Oh yeah? Does she have tentacles? Bat wings? Does she turn into a wolf when the moon is full?”
“No,” Roger sighed, “As far as I know she’s just a girl. I think you’ll find her pretty cute too.” He allowed.
“Ok,” I said, “Count me in.”