We went inside the building, which seemed to be a disused bar, possibly crossed with a motel or community center. Once inside, he led me down the hall and into a large open barroom where a film crew had set up, with tables shoved together and a computer on a desk with editing software running on it.
There were quite a few people, but I fairly soon realised that the person who appeared to be the one that everyone else was taking orders from was a young woman with short black hair cut in a floppy fringe that half-covered her narrow, handsome face. She was dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans, and her arms were tattooed. Around her neck she had a director's viewfinder on a lanyard, and she had a preoccupied expression.
The others were a burly cameraman, who clearly deferred to her; a sound recordist, various crew people; another young woman in a t-shirt and a baseball cap, pretty in a rather anonymous way, with a mop of brown hair and a small butterfly tattoo on her right arm, holding a clipboard and a mobile phone which she was frequently making calls on; and another young woman in a print dress and sandals, with long, straight dark hair, large round glasses and a rather beautiful, noble face with a long, elegant nose. She had a hippyish, vegan-coffee-shop air about her; strangely incongruous on the set of a porn movie, but she had a pleasant, interested smile on her face.
The young woman with the clipboard looked up at us and whispered something to the young woman in black, who turned and looked at us sharply, then came over, a thin smile on her face.
'So,' she said to the Big Guy, 'you've brought your starlet.'
'All ready for the time of his life,' the Big Guy said genially. The young woman nodded and looked me up and down.
'Hi,' she said. 'I'm Stevie. I'm the director. I don't know what sort of arrangement you have with Papa Bear, here, but I want to make one thing clear. Nobody appears in any of my films without signing a consent form, okay? I don't need the heat of anyone saying they were coerced into anything. If you want to play risk with him, that's up to you, I won't judge. But if you're going to be in a film I want your full consent. It's the rules.'
I looked at the Big Guy, who was twinkling.
'What would happen if I refuse to sign?' I said.
'Oh, you and me'll find another way to have fun,' he said, 'or at least, I will. I just thought you'd appreciate raisin' the stakes. But that means putting on your big boy pants and complying with what the lady says.'
I thought about it. If I was going to get humiliated further, I wanted the stakes to be higher. I couldn't imagine the Big Guy going much further than having outdoors sex with me, or handing me around some other bunch of his friends. The idea of being in a porn film was more thrilling.
'I'll sign the forms,' I said.
'Cool,' said Stevie, with the casual indifference of someone for whom it was absolutely nothing either way as to whether I was in her film or not. 'Elaine, get the form.'
The young woman with the clipboard came over and took a sheet of paper off it and handed it to me, with a pen. I scanned it: I certified that I was over 18 and agreed to have my likeness published, etc. Elaine, who I guessed was an assistant director of some sort, handed me her clipboard so I could lean on it to sign.
'All right,' Stevie said, 'so the Big Guy here told me that you have kind of an appetite for humiliation.'
'You could say so,' I admitted.
'We thought we'd recreate a classic porn Christina Carter did. She plays this stuffy society lady who's having people around for an event, and she gives all this shit to her maid for messing it up the last time, so the maid ties Christina to a table and strips her to her underwear, then teases her by pouring oil and stuff over her, then uses ice and a vibrator on her pussy, and then... aw, look, let's just watch it, and you can see for yourself.'
Stevie grinned at me. I swallowed.
We gathered around a computer and watched a video of what had clearly been caught on videotape years earlier: the porn star tied to a table in her white bra and thong, moaning and protesting as another actor teased her pussy with ice and eggs and a vibrator, and then, to the porn star's vocal protests, snipped her underwear off and systematically covered the star's nude body with pies and gunge, leaving just the face--and then, finally, covered that, too, in a thick coating of piecrust and gunge and batter until the porn star was squirming, blinded, still making muffled protests, nude, trashed and humiliated.
Stevie eyed the spectacle of the voluptuous porn star, feebly squirming under the weight of the gunge piled upon her nude body. The young woman with the glasses was standing next to her; she nodded to me, still smiling pleasantly. Her dress hung in such a way that her arms were invisible; I found myself wondering if it was some sort of South Asian garb.
'So fucking hot,' Stevie breathed, staring at the video, then turned to me and smiled brightly.
I knew that video. That was one of my fetishes, getting messy. It's why I had been so embarrassed to be thrown in the mud: I got off on being stripped and covered in gunge and blinded and used.
'So, that's what we thought you'd do,' she said.
'You want me to do that,' I said.
'I'd say you're the man for the job,' the Big Guy drawled.
'We thought we'd make you up like her,' Stevie said, 'short skirt, blouse, padded bra, wig. Really be the society lady. And then when you're on the table we get the reveal that you're a guy.'
'So you have to pay for that,' the Big Guy said.
'You mean...?'
'There would be sexual contact,' Elaine said briskly. 'You'll be anally penetrated while on the table.'
I blushed scarlet at this young woman telling me so matter-of-factly what was going to happen to me later. The young woman with the glasses was watching us, still with that ever-present smile on her face, as if she found this whole thing ever so fascinating.
'Yeah, you'll need to be ass-fucked,' Stevie said. 'Our audience will expect that. Just stripping a guy and gunging him is no good. You're okay with that?'
'If that's the scene,' I said, feeling helpless. I reflected that last night had been different; people had filmed me on their phones being passed around and gang-fucked, so they could have put those videos online, but this was me being the star of a fully-fledged cross-dressing porn video.
I wondered how many of the people on the set had ever been in their own films. Stevie certainly had the body for a particular kind of performer, being slender and small-breasted, but she was all business as the director. None of the other guys looked like the kind of guy you wanted to see on screen. There were no other actors hanging around, as far as I could see.
'I'll get paid?' I said, eyeing the Big Guy.
'You'll get paid,' Stevie said. 'We are not a charity.'
'Fine,' I said, resigned to my fate.
'Great,' Stevie said. 'Elaine, take him to makeup.'
***
Makeup was a room off the main bar, occupied by three more young women and a young man. No sooner was I in the room than Elaine put down her clipboard, stood in front of me, opened my shirt and indicated for me to take it off, then unceremoniously and without expression, she grabbed my shorts and yanked them down, stripping me nude.
I gasped with shock, but the makeup crew seemed not surprised at all. They examined my naked body.
'Legs and crotch and junk will need shaving,' said one.
'I think a shave up top would be good, too,' said another.
'How long,' said Elaine.
'Forty minutes, tops.'
