The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gina tells Amazing Shocken she can’t let go of Lulu. He refers her to a friend Manny, a showbiz shaman.

[At Manny’s Unkempt Bachelor Apartment in a Borderline Area. Clothing Hangs on Chair-Backs. Etc,]

Manny says, “If she ain’t cut-open or embalmed, …If Lulu’s only dead a day yet, I can do something for her. It’ll cost you five thousand. You have it?”

Gina, taken aback, says, “Yes. I have it. It’s been less than a day. Getting close to that? Her body is in the morgue. She’s to be moved to a funeral home tomorrow.” [Sniffles, nearly crying: Hanky to eyes.]

“We got no time to lose. Let’s go!” Gina drives, Manny hand-gestures stuffing: Spirit must be in Lulu yet.

The duo piles into Gina’s Volkswagen and tears over to downtown: A rotten-looking, old frame building. Morgue’s closed. Today’s Sunday. …After sunset. Indian says, looking at closed door, “We can get in.”

Manny knocks, grins at and after a quick tribal-talk: To her shock, gives cash to, an amiable, reddish-brown-complexioned night-watchman. “You think I’d break in? I’m healer and performer…not burglar.”

Inside the dimly-lit area, bodies under ghostly sheets lie quietly. Gina peeks at two sheet-covered gray waxy corpses and winces. The dismal third is fleshier, glowing-still, fading-fast, pallid-grayish, Lulu-body.

Lifting it with difficulty, nodding to puzzled paid-off watchman, Manny and Gina whisk Lulu’s body away to the shaman’s place. He asks “Is there anything Lulu hated about life? …Make her reluctant to return?”

Gina says, “She was dissatisfied with her image of a big-breasted bimbo? Blamed it for all her troubles.”

“Thanks.” Manny sets a weird headdress on, feathered like an Indian Chief’s: Chants while sprinkling a greenish-brown powder on Lulu’s grayish nudity. “Oh-oh ee-ee-wa-wa-wawa, wawa…” Empties all the powder, gently rubs it over unattractive gray Lulu-corpse. Picks up a small drum, stick-pounds a rhythm.

“What’s that?”

“Frog powder.” Holds a finger to his lips and says, “If you know a plastic surgeon, get her an appointment: Lulu’s going in for a breast-reduction. …She can afford it, yes?” Goes on howling, drumming, eyes closed, Indian-dancing around in a circle with a high-stepping, prancing gait.

“Yes.” And half to herself, adds: “Only Doctor Halpern.” Gina mumbling, rooting in purse and finding an address book, phoning…”I ought to use another name for the patient, Doc’s bound to have heard of Lulu’s death already. The good doctor will think I’m nuts if I offer him a corpse to work medicine on...”

[Phoning]

“Mrs. Rufus, that’s right, a preliminary appointment tomorrow…Let me check.” Turning to Manny holding her palm over the mouthpiece, Gina whispers, “Is that too soon for her or what?”

“No, if this works, she’ll be up and around in an hour or two.” Lowers volume, but pounds and chants.

“That’s all right, she can make it tomorrow.” Gina sees Lulu’s name is in the front of her book under her maiden/stage name, ‘Lulu Allhallo’: ‘Mrs. Rufus’ in parentheses crossed-out, relict Lulu’s brief marriage…

[How A Shaman Raises the Dead, Part 2, …In an Emergency: Two Hours Later With No Apparent Results]

“Gina, we’re needing to notch high, tough measures. Give me a hand.” Manny goes to the side wall, opening a garage door. Drags in the two biggest rough, greenish-black, burlap bags marked “Humus” And “Torches.” Pointing, shaman Manny asks, “Get them two smaller bags please, Gina.”

These two smaller dark-colored greenish burlap sacks are light, so the plump frizzy-head carries them in: One is labeled “Makeup, Seedpods and Vines” and the other is labeled “Gourds and Beads.”

Manny takes one of the bigger bags and spreads dead leaves, pine-straw and bark around Lulu’s carcass. Bids Gina pass him the smallest sack, which has his makeup. He puts red paint on his nose and three crossways blue stripes on cheeks. Red nose is clownish-funny, but warpaint’s total effect is fierce?

Gina blanches and opens sack of light-yellow, polished-wood gourds, shaped like small saucepans.

Manny grabs a pod and pops seeds from a long black seedpod into a gourd. Gina grabs another pod and pops seeds into the other gourd and he shells the third pod, producing about eighteen seeds total into his two gourds. Tied each to the opposing opening, laid upside-down to close them up together, makes a container. The larger vine is tied off around two-gourd’s bowls —Gina holds them so— next the smaller vine is tied onto their handles, uniting them. The bigger burlap sack reveals six, tall, black, tarry torches.

Beaded necklace jangle-swings out from his neck as Manny leans forward, fits torch in a holder right above the head of the corpse, another at feet. Three on each side. “Gina you’re going to have to strip completely and lie atop Lulu. Is that all right?” With his head, he waves her up on top of naked cadaver.

“If I have to…” Gina removes her top and frees her round, blood-red-nipple-tipped, light-orange, sparsely-freckly boobs, peekaboo-undressed through a black-lace 36D bra. Undraped Gina is fetching.

This busty prettiness, Manny grins at, confirms his approximation from her clothed form, yet flipping-hand-gestures that she continue. Gina removes black bra, releases blackish-red, angular, flaccid nipples, bouncily. Steps out her skirt showing matching panty, next loses step-ins. A fine bush: Scanty, auburn.

Manny indicates Gina climb aboard and as she carefully scales the table and lowers herself tenderly, he’s lighting the surrounding torches, clanging gourds, chanting the Indian song: “Oh-oh ee-ee-wa-wa-wawa, wawa…” Dancing around, he head-nods circularly, indicating frizzy-head move her body in a sex-moves fashion on dead Lulu. “You love her, no?” He asks. His beads shake a faint sound when he raises head.

Gina thinks Yes but that was when Lulu was alive not a corpse. “Ooh!” …This seems ‘terribly-depraved?’

The torches smell, sizzle and sputter, but none of them go out. Lulu’s dead face isn’t pretty, yet Gina kisses her lips and cheeks, feeling very-cool skin, unlike Lulu’s. Weird papery or earthy vegetation taste, maybe frog powder, what the heck is that, or perhaps it’s the odor of crunchy dead-leaf humus? Hope it works. …I’ll need to shower which will be twice today. A flinch? Gina shouts “Manny I feel her cat stir!”

“Bear down on her pussy more with yours, Gina, I’ll turn up the heat over here, too.” Manny dances head-down, in a faster circle, whooping ‘Woo-Woo-Woo” like a stage Indian.” Stinky air. Gina banishes her sudden doubt: The Amazing Shocken, a stage hypnotist, referred her to showman-Indian Manny?

Lulu seems to actually move a teeny bit, only her pussy, though, possibly some weird reflex movement?

“It’s her pussy twitching again, Manny…” Taking a long-shot, Gina kisses Lulu’s lips again and is kissed back! “She kissed me back, Manny!” Lays on arms around neck, squeezing-kissing, eyes-closed, hoping?

“Squeeze her boobs, Gina.“ [Does gently, hands full] “…C’mon harder that’s it, her whole handful, lift…”

“Manny that’s too rough I’ll hurt her boobs.” Anxiously turns head back, releases tits, encircles arms.

“Let me then.” Manny puts his hand on Lulu’s breast squeezes pulls it out while Gina sucks her other tit.

Lulu’s eyes open. “What! Gina? Who he?” Eyes-popping frightened leap-up, raises her blonde head…

Gina climbs off and starts to get dressed. Looks disguised-astonished, casually mutters, “Manny’s somebody important to you, Lulu. You are officially dead. Yet, you are reborn…Isn’t that so, Manny?”

“Correct. And somebody owe me money.”

[Lulu’s Viewpoint]

‘Amnesia feels like this? A walk through a brightly-lit tunnel to…Where? Why, I’m stretched out on my back. …Suddenly a mist clears. … No, that can’t be… Gina’s seated over there, writing a check to an Indian Chief[?] Why am I so cold? And why does my left tit buzz me, throbbing so alarmingly?’ [Caresses mistreated breast gently.] “Oooh…” ‘Gina is handing me a check to sign for the Chief, mumbling as they both stand. The Indian snuffs out the last of his torches: Approaches me says he’s ‘Manny.’ …What Gina advises, I do: Rotating my check in his hand as if it’s still wet. Feel rusty, strange.

Gina, my short, built-redhead, brushes me off, sits me up. I’d like a wash. Nice having a beautiful girl …above me: I sit up…across from me. Chanting, a thing I must do? All of a sudden my eyelids, heavy...’

Gina says, “You’re very sleepy…Must obey Gina…You will do what I ask, especially when you wake, recalling nothing but my post-hypnotic commands: Feeling refreshed, Lulu? Don’t worry. Everything will work out if only you follow my instructions specifically. To the letter. Lulu enjoys not having her own will back, which only causes trouble. Isn’t that so?

Not having people look always at your chest first will be a great relief…to be an ordinary, goodlooking, svelte blonde: Attractive, only average tits. You’re making the correct move having breast-reduction surgery. You’re pleased it’s happening. That’s for sure! Awake! Lulu! Now!”

Gina’s face orange-ly glows in front of me, appearing as though on a television screen. Satisfactoryily.

Abruptly I am not at all tired. I feel pins-and-needles? If I only had a clear head, I’d be good to go…

[Scantily-clad Gina claps hands, as Manny returns from stowing sacks in his garage. He scoops the mulch that lay around Lulu on the table-edges into the next-to-largest bag, closes it up. “Waste not, want not.” Manny says, faintly smiling, fiercely-daubed blue-and-red war-paint belied. Next he looks at in mirror, scratches at his face. Goes into a bathroom, from which issues running-water noises. Returns unpainted, taking off his headdress. “Got to go to town.”

Gina sees she’s only dressed in black-lace bra and panties. “Oh!” She exclaims leaping. “I’m a sight!”

Lulu says slowly, “You’re marvelous, Darling!” Sitting on table naked, wraps her arms around busty redhead. Passed white 36-D bra and sweaty multi-colored polka-dot dress, Lulu holds pink panties out saying, “Not again…?” Pushes legs through, jumps off table. [With spectacular boob-jouncing.] “Numb in spots…thinner too…? These panties aren’t at all close-fitting: Nearly-droop. …Gina can you hook me?”

[Lulu’s Viewpoint, continued]

[‘The 36-D bra fits around me, with a small amount of twist-struggle I’m inside. My left boob’s zapping.’]

Lower dress over my head while Gina yanks the hem down nearly to my knees.

Manny ordinary looking as he approaches us now, two pairs of shoes in hand. Anne-Marie’s scuff marks on mine… The green high-heel shoes must be Gina’s.

“Thank you. …For everything. …My life, I think…Manny?” Kissing him. I feel pins-and-needles sensation from my face down back and front stabbing my one tit to my very feet.

Manny, not so inscrutable? “Lulu, you look so good, I can’t believe you’re going to have plastic surgery!”

“It’s the first I heard of it. Is that good for me? Gina, what’s going on?” ‘I’m fuzzy, not only around the edges. Cool all over and seem to be covered with greasy dusty greenish-brown soot?’ [Brushes arms, face and legs. Kicks legs and stretches arms out. Repeats with moans. Hangs down head and shakes.]

Gina is coming over and kisses me, but quickly in a casual, passionless manner. Doesn’t seem like Gina?

“We’ve got an appointment for you to go see Dr. Halpern, in the morning, but first you must sleep.”

[At Gina’s, Next Morning]

“Lulu wake up! You got eight hours’ rest and we’re due at the Doctor’s in a couple hours. You need a shower and we got to eat. Go ahead. I’ve been in the bathroom already.” ‘She is already totally awake!

Gina, in pants and spilling out of a scoop-top, primitive-print, peasant blouse, pulls on my arms until I’m half out on the bed-edge sitting up. I find her attractively curvy: Usual light-orange, freckly complexion.

Her unruly hair looks neat for once but I’m asleep.’ [A cup thrust into my hand.] “Coffee.” ‘She smiles.

It‘s not as smoothly perfect as I make. …But it’s hot, wet and doesn’t taste at all bad.’ [Drinks a small sip, a lot more, finishes the cup to the very end]. “What do I do next, Baby?”

‘Have I always been this compliant? Or only since I’m reborn? Led to the bath, I notice my short nightie leaves my thighs -not heavy only solid now- bare. I reach to cover my sex, but I find I wear pink panties.’

“I undressed you and put one of my nightgowns on you last night. …It’s a close fit, don’t you think? Lulu-Baby, we are nearly the same size now.” Holding both my hands in hers, Gina straightens from her bent-over position, forcing me to get up also. I smile at my cuddly lover who’s gently dancing me away.

Want to hug her: Leading me into bath, she swats me gently on my butt, way less-pudgy than before.

“You must weigh.” It’s a scale inside bathroom door. I step up. “126 and ½ pounds!” I holler jubilantly.

Gina grins, “That figures.” Turns on the taps while I quick-strip. Notice her arms: Did Gina distract me?

Notice I’m dirtier than ever before. A long-handled loofah is used to sponge me down: My lover pays attention to my outstanding hooters, round bottom. Scrubbing so my tits flop up-down horribly. “Not so hard on my left boob, please, Gina-Sweetheart.” I’m sore only there and luckily, my butt, thighs and belly tingle pleasantly with my returning feeling. Next Gina gives me a washcloth, a bar of soap for my “nitty-gritty”, as my redheaded girlfriend delicately terms it: Blowing a kiss, exits room. I scrub carefully my inside, outside, pussy, asshole, adjust water to ‘cool’, rinse and step out, dry, gasping-sighing, dress.’

[At Dr. Halpern’s]

Gina tells me I need my huge tits reduced, I can’t see it but sit, filling-out forms until called by a nurse.

Dr. Halpern [looking at papers] asks, “Mrs. Rufus, you say you are 22-23? Don’t you know? I get a lot of women twice your age who say they’re thirty, but look, and are, forty-five.” Ordinary middle-aged guy.

Lulu says, removing her blouse and bra, fascinating view raising Halpern’s eyebrows. Taps his teeth with pen: “I’m going on twenty-three. …I feel forty.” [To Nurse with tape:] “Please take care…my left one.”

Measuring above her breasts, across Lulu’s boob-peaks, medium-busted Nurse shakes her head, shows Dr. Halpern tape-measurements. “See what large breasts your patient has.” Whispers the spooky one.

“Your left breast is badly bruised. …Well, no matter, I’ll cut you down to a C-cup, if that’s what you’d like… Lulu, you measure in-between a D-cup and a DD-cup. I can’t easily reduce to ‘B,’ because I’d have to get your nipples down proportionately. You don’t want these long pink nipples operated on do you?”

“I’d rather not…I want a average-girl look and it’d be more-normal to have B-cup tits. I like the way my nipples look.” Sighs, looking in the mirror at reflected large torpedo-tits’ long, semi-erect, pink nipples.

Dr. Halpern says, “You wear a size four and a half shoe…that’s very small. Those red lines show you could try a half-size larger, five?” Indicating pink incised marks on sides on both Lulu’s feet.

Lulu looks at the dark pink outlines on her small feet, “I find the size five is always too loose, Doctor.”

Dr. Halpern says, letting go of her one tootsie, “You can afford to have them custom-made, can’t you, Lulu?” [Pauses.] “Please remove your panties and step here over to my measuring-pole.” [A Nurse-attended, shiny aluminum apparatus awaits.]

Lulu lets her enormous breasts hang down to take off her scanties. While Doctor and thin, tight-outfitted Nurse stare, the patient carelessly throws pink garment on the chair, jiggling a bit. Walks naked to the tall metal device, where the nurse rather painfully clamps blonde’s right nipple and hauls her long pink nipple up on a kind of pants-hanger.

“Oh, er…”

Cranking raises hanger-clip upward along pole gradually, Nurse stares hungrily into Lulu’s pained eyes, stretches Lulu’s nipple higher than her jawline, distorts her breast into a white-tipped extreme funnel. Homely, fair Nurse licks her lips. Locks crank —firm metallic clunk— in place.

“It might be a moment’s discomfort…,” says the cruel Doctor, fingering the very-pale underside of her deformed right boob all the way from her cleavage to her armpit. “Don’t lift your arms.” Both medicos use their off-side arms to grasp the chubby blonde’s arms down out of the way, holding them tautly.

As blurry painful tears run out, I see Doctor’s red hairs amongst the brown in his moustashe: His mouth a little open. “All right, let Lulu go.” He tells the nurse. Clanking noises accompany blood rushing back.

Lulu rubs her pained nipple and all of her breast.

‘That’s pretty bad pain for the “moment’s discomfort” description. I wonder what “a real hurt” according to Dr. Halpern, feels like: Probably I’d need Manny!’

“You’re left-handed, I see…the left breast is always a little smaller in that case. I’ll even out your breasts.” Unnecessarily pinches both pillar thighs, her large butt and her tiny belly.

Always picks exactly my plumpest places: Curvy tender inner thighs, peaks of bottom-cheeks, gently raised-up plateau around Lulu’s navel. Ticklish there, I’m suppressing a giggle.

“Oh, if you would like me to thin your belly, thighs and buttocks, you’ll be five pounds fewer?” Head held to one side, interrogatively. A camera, he’s raising. Takes front and profile flashing breast-pictures.

Blinks, rubs eyes. “No Doctor I don’t want my overweight-problem fixed by you. I’ll lose weight myself.”

Doctor has Nurse dig in a file cabinet and report he has five 32-A and 34-A bras, a 37-F. Bring the last, he says, an underwired, custom, dark-tan bra. Can’t wear my white 36-D bra because my breasts swelled, by this bruising session. I fold my bra, stick in my purse. Doctor Halpern fits his dark bra on me. His sadistic Nurse feels me thoroughly in front, fitting me into its cups? Hardly needed: It’s a loose fit. Comfy. It’s supportive: Different look against my skin. The plastic surgeon backs, taps his pen to his lips thoughtfully at my decided contrast. “She’s darker, Ms. Rufus, our breast patient: French or Italian?”

[At The Studio]

Solly Allen is co-starring me billed under a different name at eighty percent my contracted salary. He says, “I know and Gina knows what you can do, to our audience you’re your twin sister: — An unknown.”

Makeup/Costumes is a middle-aged woman of a certain age and a sagging, once-good figure. She touches up my hair saying it’s ‘bristly,’ ‘all one color if I trim,’ ‘pale-yellow with white ends’. “You could be trimmed.” Snip, snip, snip go my split ends: “That’s the best Tutu’s going to look right now Mr. Allen.”

Tammy as a first-time Producer, is showing Gina a script of “Gangbang,” wherein an actress [me] is abducted and defiled. First the actress played by me performs scenes with her first ex-lover, Gina, a first-time film-Director acting in a small part. Apparently I [as the character] love Gina, am broken-hearted by her leaving, which sets up my character for my cruelty shown with Margie, and —it’s implied I used violence— on now-vengeful Kelly. Next my scenes with Margie, my third abused, soon-to-be ex, lover. My second ex-lover —How do I do it?— is played by my Co-star Kelly. Hates me and thirsts to kill me, her meaty role requires she betray me to abductors. Bobby Thwaite plays leader of the bad guys.

Beautiful Gina is trying to teach me to act. “You miss my mouth when you kiss me. …No feeling. Try it.“

“Lou, go ahead and shoot us.“ Waving in the Cameraman with his small handheld. He’s up pretty close.

Suddenly she shouts, “Action!” Whispers sharply, “…Don’t get carried away now, Lulu! Feel nothing!”

I kiss Gina, this time missing her lips but the camera doesn’t pick up this omission, filming our other side. I continue on down her neck, even to the back, eating her orange-furred nape. Lovely. I push down her elastic neckline, uncovering the top half of both rather-large, round boobs. The camera sees it frontally.

— She leaps back, saying “No, I’m leaving you and that’s that, there’s nothing you can do to convince me to stay!” Behind the camera, Tammy’s flipping her script page, nodding to Gina’s correct line-reading.

With a light face-pat, I’m not really abusively slapping her face here, I allow Gina to break free. Though the lead, my character is brutish. My little redhead looks good with half her full bosom peeking out. But she is serious about departing, twist-breaking free, pushing me back when I attempt more hugging, a squeeze and another half-missed clinch and half-smooch. Lifts top casually, wraps a coat around self.

“Cut!” Gina is the Director on the picture for her first time and she has just left me in the show…Sad?

[Darkened Screening Room — Rushes]

Watching next to Gina, I manage not to comment in any way. Excited I see myself on the screen kissing her with feeling, detect in close-up her tiny, russet, nape-of-neck hairs. My hands slip down and lower her blouse’s top to reveal most of her mighty boobs. A Close Shot. Top of her blood-red nipples visible!

Tammy says, “It’s all right you get into it. Lulu’s supposed to love you in this scene, Gina, but where you move your hands from her upper back to her shoulders, you’d push her away even more fiercely. We’ll accept it. …From now on, Lulu, let yourself twist loose easier, even if you’re falling on the floor…”

[Later That Same Day With Margie]

Gina is telling me I’ve got to hit Margie. I’m protesting that the poor little broad is pregnant.

“Well, why’s she working here in that case?”

Jayci is brought in as a double.

Gina gives the foreign girl a light-brown wig, a swirly psychedelic print dress identical to petite Margie’s. “She’s got a red bra-panties set.”

Jayci opens her top to show she’s wearing red, pulls up the bottom. Jayci’s waist is much-bigger around! …Tits, hips, bush all nearly twice Margie’s, too!” Very attractive. …Will the audience believe it’s Margie?

“It’s only her face that’s closed-in-on, in this shot, Lulu, don’t worry, Jayci’ll be fine. It’s you, I’m worried about…Give her a good face-slapping, three or four times back-and-forth until she hits the floor! Next you stomp, but the camera hides your non-connecting.…Lou?…O.K?” He says he’ll miss them. “Action!”

‘I don’t like having to hurt Jayci. She is all right as far as I’m concerned: I think, ‘What if it’s Tammy?’ …I dislike her, to say the least. …I picture Tammy’s face, instead of Jayci’s, and start hitting. Must be hard enough, since Lou and Stan grin their Cameraman’s approval, shooting my stiff face-slapping. Driving Jayci’s face -superimposed with my mental Tammy-image- from side-to-side with backhand action, too: Until she ‘s forced to kneel, collapse onto the floor. It’s all I can do to miss, in stomping her rotten pear-boobs, Tammy’s-imagined hated face, kicking at, missing her head-stomach-fat tush!’ Wig’s a bit askew.

“Cut!” “That was fine, Lulu!” Gina steps over and helps Jayci up. Her face swells bright-red, both sides.

Jayci: “I ought to be paid extra for this. I fell. Which is one hundred dollars. And those stomps and kicks …if I hadn’t moved, one or two would’ve connected! If I have to dodge blows, it’s another one hundred dollars …Ask Shop-Steward Brother Reynolds if you don’t believe. On top of my doubling-stunting fees.”

Tammy is noting and passes paper to the Script-Girl: “We’ve got you down for it Jayci.” Takes back wig.

“We might as well do the scene with Margie…But don’t whale the tar out of her, Lulu.” With a big smile.

Gina waves in both Cameramen and Margie in an identical print dress. “Lulu, take it from the Jealousy.”

“Action!”

I accuse Margie of doing everything under the sun with Gina. I swing without connecting and there’s a break where Make-Up’s checking Jayci’s red face and hand-marks: Slightly ‘Tsk-tsking’, does a rouge-job to match-up Margie. Call for “Action!” resumes with the faked-stomping and -kicking which -not using Stanislavski’s Method- I don’t kick close, since I am affectionate with my pretty, brown-headed petite.

“Cut!” Gina says, “It’s noon, so why don’t we break for Lunch and film Kelly and Bobby’s crew, after?”

Tammy walks over, fingers straying from around upper arm to tingling side of boob, touching Gina too-intimately. “O.K. with me Baby. Want to see my new place…?”

I see that Jayci’s bringing smocked, short, spiky-headed Shop-Steward Reynolds and our Studio Doctor. I hear our stunt-girl demanding she get paid more for her scene. Reynolds keeps calling Tammy “Brother Johnson” which I know isn’t her name at all, Tammy is actually ‘Yondsen,’ but so what? I’m not ‘Tutu Rufus’, my own twin sister, either. I got to be billed this way.

Gina paid a bribe for my rent-to-own penthouse, so I’ve sub-let it to my twin sister? I’ll own it outright in a month! It’s an open secret that I’m Lulu and not my sister, but Solly Allen used this stratagem to get his salary terms, $100K a film and 2—% gross.

I help Margie up, we are both waiting for the brouhaha near the cameras to subside: Reynolds points, Doctor pokes, Jayci’s reddened face. Jayci truly acts, times like this. I’d believe she really suffered.

“You all right, Margie-Babes?” I kiss her tenderly, not missing her mouth. Petite employs her small tits and little pussy forward-crunching onto me. “I think you are…” What a wonderful woman! I’m in love!

“If this’s my last scene ever, I’m glad it was with you, Lulu!” Happy light-brown-head, small even teeth.

My innards suddenly start acting up and I’m loosing. “Margie, I can’t work anymore today…Got to go!”

“I’ll fix it with Solly and Tammy, don’t worry…” A peck on my cheek, clutch of my chubby white biceps.

Jayci’s pulling her dress and acting distressed, making pained faces. Gina and Tammy shouting at the same time. The difference sounds like a hundred bucks. Margie’s knocking on Solly’s door, going in. I wonder if there’s hanky-panky anymore? …Uh-oh, my flow didn’t care for that thought! …I have an erratic menstrual-cycle. With my pills, sometimes I needn’t worry. At present I’m wildly cramping!

[Back At Solly Allen’s Studio]

[Jayci’s Viewpoint]

‘I’ve nearly my argument won when Tammy -to Solly’s office- escapes. Gina’s a paragraph being shown in our Union Rulebook by Brother Reynolds. It’s called “Undue Jeopardy,” which Shop-Steward Reynolds mispronounces saying ‘Je-o-pardy’ every time and likewise the doctor’s diagnosis of ‘Edema,’ even I a foreigner know better than to emphasize ‘Ed’ in this word. Reynolds is pointedly persuasive in that we stunt-people aren’t supposed to safeguard ourselves. That’s for the Studio or their Director or Producer to know. If I have to dodge, I’ll upset the shot protecting myself. A ‘No-No…’ ‘Don’t mess with the shot’, a stuntman’s ‘Prime Directive’, it is. …Tammy returns. We’re only a hundred dollars apart in our bargaining. Producer’s talked to Solly and offers four-fifty, a split-the-difference deal. I nod: Smiling, Reynolds and Doctor shake my hand and exit. They helped me: So I palm off to

each, twenty-five bucks.

Tammy says, “The rest of today, we have to work around Lulu. She won’t be back until tomorrow. We’ll do all the action. You will double her.”

‘There’s my beating-Kelly-Bobby’s bad guys’ ‘straight’ sex scenes—…my murder…half-day’s work at least.

[At Solly Allen’s Studio—On Prop Mock-Up, oversized, roofless car-backseat set-fabricated to make this ]:

Kelly, a heavy-breasted redhead with red-orange nipples spread-eagle-spanked by Jayci on her tits and pussy. “Spank!”

“…Owww!” Kelly yells, recoils savagely, not moving much. She’s tied. Jouncing full pears. Hips bump.

Parts of a enlarged, black-plastic, folded-down, convertible top, silvery metal struts and hinged flanges, are partly visible to the left of Kelly’s head. Isn’t a car attached. A Gaffer lights the scene eerily, a hunkered-outside-the-shot Grip, Marty, tautens the rope, so Kelly can’t move at all. He’s tying it off, Gina is gesturing him back out of the Camera’s view. Lou signals that he succeeds in purposely missing Grip. Stan’s silently cursing his big camera’s less-flexible. Marty may be cut out later? Trimmed off shot?

Jayci swings, hand-spanks Kelly hard ten times on her moving tits and pussy, picks up a flogger, starts whipping beauty’s rounded belly, thick thighs. “Smack!” Brandishes scary, tasseled, high-brass fitted, black leather paddle with holes. Licks lips, smiles in eager anticipation. “I’ll paddle, if you don’t eat me!”

Kelly sobbing, says, “But I’d be glad to…Please Tutu, just stop hurting me!” Tries to lift up but cannot.

“Cut!” Gina waves to the Grip to let Kelly loose. “How are you doing? Can you finish the scene? You eat her to climax.”

Kelly rubs her wrists and ankles, her boobs jutting to each side, belly crinkling, “I’m all right so far, Gina.”

”…Jayci, are you going to orgasm nicely for us today?”

“I am to be slow-coming probably, I’m not lesbian you know…and my face hurts.” Caresses cheeks a bit.

[Jayci’s Viewpoint, continued]

‘Let men who maintain: A beauty gets whatever she wants. View me: How I kowtow, a slave to money…

Gina is telling me that I should stretch way-up my arms, legs spread-apart more, because Kelly’s broad-shouldered. That is only thing broad about her, I am thinking since she’s so strictly homosexual. Farther back I must lean, “All right,” my Director is saying, “Go get her, Kelly!” Frightened-vulnerable-available…

“Action!”

My tits and armpits open to her attack, and she’s rubbing me hard, making my pink nipples stand up straight on my flattened boobs. “Ohhhh…Ewww….” …My belly: “Ooh!” Tickles! Why I’m enjoying her tongue on my pussy: Kelly leans roughly onto my clitoris and outer lips: Kissing, licking and sucking! My man Marty dislikes my sex taste, won’t kiss me there long. I’m reaching down guiding Kelly’s head to my most sensitive place, inner-middle, and I climb to my peak quickly, squealing-huffing-puffing: “Argghh!”

Gina is bringing up the Double for Kelly, a somewhat darker, thinner but curvy girl. Gina yells “Cut!”

Director asks me if I can beat Justine’s bottom with the paddle and I say ‘Fine.” The girl takes Kelly’s place between my legs without a protest and I whale away at her butt. Doesn’t match Kelly’s light-orange butt, but I’m not audience…Gaffer is told to pour on the lights. …She eats me with vigor, and I guide her head around with my other hand, I nod-ask Gina if I’m to climax again. …I can’t help it, it’s always this way, faster the second time, and driving her head into my pussy by paddling her bottom: Stinger’s heft is its own momentum! Waves overcome, I can’t resist it, a lollapalooza! “Argghh!” Dizzy. Justine’s bright-red bottom I stop beating. …Paddle: Vicious-hefty! Was that five hits? Ten? Twelve?’

My boyfriend Marty I blow quite well. I manage to land him an acting job in my picture. He’s long but not as much as Bobby, Johnnie. …Equal length to Tom, the taller, crooked-dick, less-wellhung cowboy. All fill up my mouth much too rubbery, soapy, but at least they’re clean. With difficulty, I deep-throat longest, uncircumcised Bobby. Coughing, choking. Why does he hold my head, feed it to me? This is not necessary…I fill top to bottom! The ruffian pops his fat dick out, splashes scum onto my tongue! He acts put out—but only in the show. Gang of four belittle me. Slap, punch, kick me. In fun? This is pain! Slip back on haunches, bracing hand on floor. Too bad, I contract to take all abuse at my stunting salary.

Gina is lying on the floor, very close to me. With her creeping up in a low-crawl, is Lou, the handheld cameraman. She’s smashing one fist into her other palm to urge the guys on! Why? Points at the script with her thumb, the cowboy Tom is reaching my fingers intertwined with his and twisting. “Ow!” I am bent backwards like a bow so this smallest-built guy fills me! He’s pumping very hard and bouncing off my cervix. “It’s …Ugh! ..Uh!” Gina is smiling horridly at him and nods. I think she’s getting me back…Gina isn’t my friend of this lot, and here she’s my director! Johnnie sticks his cock in my mouth. I’m upside-down and I cannot see easily…Why is Gina showing Bobby how the little bird dips in and out of a glass? Oh. My nipples, he’s pecking them, chewing, snapping my poor breasties! Gina demos how!

It’s horrible, all four men squirt jism twice each, are pulling out and spurting all over me, all dripping, whitish sperm-covered: My classic European face, light hair, neck, half-semen-submerged-pink-nipple tits, my splattered thighs, splashed ass, slow-dribbling belly. I screw three in a row. Why’d they maul my poor tits? Squashing, fierce pinching and mashed nipples not needed? Horny hands —he needs nail-clipping— pummel, beat, smash! A Pain-gasm? “Aieee!” My head I turn back-forth, screaming wildly. A living, then-some, for a foreign-accented showgirl? I self-destruct, yet telling myself? ‘Think of money!’

Bobby is so long. Yet it’s important he lever in to the hilt by wresting my bottom? No! It’s doesn’t help for roughs to be my fistfuls grasping! My bottom-cheeks crunched tightly and wrenched hard, while I’m rear-thrust powerfully! “Wham! Wham!” My mouth and pussy sore: Reaching my rubbed-raw limit. …Bobby eventually gets out, erupts over my thighs. …Relieved there’s no anal, the ‘hetero’ part is all over. The ‘Gang’ kissing me to try to show there’s no hard feelings. …I enjoy only Marty. My lips chapped. His tongue I gobble: I’m throbbing, bruised, sticky...Dirty, is how I feel. Not in love anymore! I can’t help wanting to go home! Yet, I got one more scene, my death to do...I’m murdered but it’s fake.

[Jayci’s ‘Murder’ Scene]

When Kelly raises her sewing machine to bash me on the head, the two Cameramen have to video me twice. Make-Up runs up with a red-colored pot marked, “Pig Blood” and paints me scarlet. Intercutting cameras shoot their fill of me and a hideously-disfigured casually-postured Prop-dummy: I’ll wash it off?

“Cut!” Gina yells and meets with Tammy. There’s one more scene of Kelly meeting with the men and betraying me to the Gangbangers, but I get to dress, go home. I edge toward my Dressing Room and at the sink outside, wash off remaining blood: That gunk really sticks! In splotched mirror, I notice I’ll need shampooing beyond my schedule. My dark-yellow hair needs washing again. My large, pink-nipple-boobs, my meal-ticket in business, quiver-quake as I’m reaching my arms feel my sweat-stiff blonde hair.

Marty holds script and points out where ‘Rapid-pumping, Brutal rape, Come-painting victim’, is required.

“You can dress if you’ll stop by the Doctor’s, leave.” Whispers Studio-boss Solly on my left. He’s psychic?

I kiss his fat cheek, grateful. Glance, see him dab hanky to waterspots my nipples dripped on his jacket. Shrug -accidentally jiggle- push through my half-star—“Jayci”—marked door. Luckily allowed crying-room.

[At Doctor’s Studio Office]

I crinkle sitting on a white-tissue-wrapped examining table while the Doctor pokes and prods my bruises. “Owww!” I cry with involuntary-resumed shaking. Stiffened fingering squeezes, dents in my curves.

“O.K., lie down and roll over onto your stomach please, Jayci.”

He’s hurt my boobs, belly and thighs. …I am supposed to lie on them? Hah! Oh, boy, this is really the pits… Heavy palming: “You’re pressing me onto my sore tits, Doctor…” It’s entire front-body pain-flash!

He yanks my pink-tipped pear breasts out to my armpits, folding and hurting them even more, which I’d thought impossible! I leak tears flowing like a waterfall and can’t help ridiculous weeping: I’m shaking…

“No, no, no…”

“Rough nipples, these chaps often handle any abuse, must’ve been troublous, what they did to you, huh, Jayci?” Doctor uses his thumbs to rotate around my nipples even though I’m wincing, twitching.

“Don’t remind me!” Unrepentant, he continues caresses there which only pain me…I stop my crying…

Studio Doctor pinches my upper thighs and bottom which is painful too. Leaning into my butt to press home two big hypos, one held in each hand, crew-cut fellow explains, “B-12, twice as much a dose as usual.” Says “It’s over.” I don’t complain: Doc helps me up, says he’ll get me out of any more work on my “Gangbang,” which is great…I kiss him with feeling, sitting, ignoring my buttocks’ sharp needle-zings.

[On The Set]

Doctor tells Solly either Jayci gets overnight hospitalization for ‘observation’ or no more sex scenes until Tuesday, with plenty rest, warm — not hot — tub-baths and icing-down her bruises. She won’t be usable.

Solly Allen grabs a clipboard and adds up time in the can, which shows a total of two and a half hours, half of it Co-starring Lulu, Kelly…with Gina, Margie and Justine. The other half, mostly Inserts of Stand-in with the men. Solly thinks: ‘Her lay-off costs a few bucks’ cutting-room time. …Cheaper than a hospital.’

“We are scheduled to wrap and cut Monday and release “Gangbang,” Tuesday. But Lulu works in-between to make the establishing-shots and transitions. Jayci is probably expendable at this point.”

[Wednesday Morning, So Early It’s Dark, At Lulu’s Penthouse]

[Lulu’s Viewpoint]

I woke up after sleeping ten hours! I look at my birth-control pills and I’m two days behind. I take one early because it’s four o’clock, five hours before I habitually do. I haphazardly toss two pills out. “Plunk!” Guilt-trip myself over the dollar’s worth I flush? Wonder if my missing a couple of days’ pills, was why I had such a massive period? Disgusting: Messy details. …I shower, eat, sleep, feel like new? I throw out my red, polka-dotted dress. Have to cover it up in trash even. …Too many bad memories.

Notes on a scratch pad by my phone: …Solly called yesterday and I only recall promising, ‘I’d be at work after lunch today.’ ‘If necessary, I’d do Saturday re-takes to finish his film on time for him.’ I actually have 2½ personal days this year, I haven’t taken, and he knows it. I took one-half day, yesterday but I’m behind that much from last year. For some reason I’ve written: ‘Get those cowboys Tom and Johnnie — rodeo-champs from last year, see they are rated clean for STDs…We need four, there’s Bobby and who?’

Dialogue I heard while on the phone: Solly saying to his Secretary or Script-Girl in the background? I wrinkle up my paper and start to toss it, think better of this and flatten it out. Leave it there as a reminder to get myself together after lunch. See a brown bag, “Hmmm.” Opened, find it contains the dark-tan 37-F underwire bra from Dr. Halpern. Fits pretty loose on me. I suppose I meant to return it to him? How nice of me.’

[Removes bra from oversized breasts and mirrors her twisting naked body in glass. Smiles at gigantic-tits impressive physique. Twiddles pink nipples for no reason. Gets on scale: “126,” her dial reads.]

‘Very close. Nothing like being dead a day, for weight-loss. I can pig out and it doesn’t harm me a bit!’

I look at the extra damages-money signed over by Gina to my new ‘Tutu Rufus’ account from The Coven.

I glance at my latest Driver’s License: Who took my test? Photo is of a frowsy, chubby blonde with small beady eyes. Are they blue? Well, the description says so. On a bad day I could be that girl in the photo?

Anne-Marie says The Coven might have gotten carried away. They comped my funeral done by Bob, an undertaker. …Did he fill my box with rocks, or use some other cadaver he had handy? I lost on my ‘Coven’ sacrifice this time, but I was confused as to my intentions… Half-wanted to throw in the towel…?

I’ll make some dough on “Gangbang,” although there’s no ‘Anal’ and not much ‘Lesbian’, there’s enough ‘Hetero’ to pick up a good ‘straight-freak’ share. I’ll come out ahead on that profit. If my salary isn’t what it should be, I’m still glad to be alive!