Method Acting Part 3

 

The words of Bianca's final message played over and over in Oscar's head as crew members urgently worked to reset the scene around the bed he lay on ready for the next take. The stench of sweat and stale aftershave from the male lead still clung to his body as tightly as his red latex dress from the last attempt to film the scene. Had she been right? Had he become the whore she had prophesied? He was a filming a sex scene after all...with a male actor...or at least trying to... He leant back into the cushions in frustration. Bianca hadn't done this. How could she have? Still he needed to get this fucking scene done so he could move on with his life...

Oscar's life had someone taken a turn into ever direr territory when his bimbo housewife character had been killed off from 'Playing House' after just a single season. Not only had he had to go through the indignity of being crushed by a giant wedding cake and all the batter and cream and batter that went with it, but he was once again left without a pay-check. Agnes had lectured him sternly, or as sternly as the old woman could muster, about his mounting debts and growing legal challenges, and continued to present to him zero good offers of work.

Three months passed before Agnes brought the contract for 'Pillow Fight' – a low budget romcom about a boxer who loses his killer instinct after falling in love. It was a female part once more but this time the studio had conditions. They loved his bombshell character from tv but they were also aware that his hormone cycles had lapsed since his on-screen death. If he wanted the new role, he would need to get silicone implants, at least temporarily for his breasts and lips and have some minor plastic surgery on his face. He would also need to film a sex scene for the movie.

Finally, the crew had finished resetting the scene for the next take. A make-up girl skipped over to freshen up his lipstick and liven up his hair, slipping in a quick 'God, I love your dress' that made him want to murder her. She was exactly the kind of bimbo he would of pumped and dumped back in his prime... Now he just hated her almost as much as he hated the dress she had complimented – the one that hugged his still fresh surgery scars painfully. 'I couldn't fuck her even if I wanted' he thought bitterly of the tiny cock between his legs shrunken by the new higher dosed hormones the studio has been feeding him.

“There you are, my little whore!” Oscar's painted lips dropped open at the sight of the huge man standing over him aggressively at the foot of the bed and it took a moment for him to realise the director had called action. “How about you show me what you have for me?” Oscar leaned back on his elbows so that he could spread his legs in spite of the tight dress as his his bottom lip in practised sexuality – all the while, Bianca's words echoed...whore, whore, whore...

Method Acting Part 2

 

“You have fan mail.” Agnes presented a pile of envelopes held together by thick rubber bands. “I suppose I should say you have MORE fan mail. The audience loves you. It seems your reputation is steadily improving.” She said encouragingly. “And the acting contracts are doing wonders for the money situation.”

“Just give them here!” Oscar demanded – his voice now considerably softened by multiple rounds of hormone cycles. He was between scenes and didn't want to delay restarting filming because of any such bullshit – especially today. Wardrobe had once again put his character, and subsequently him into liquid latex leggings. He didn't care that it was one of her signature looks – he fucking hated them. They squeezed his oestrogen bloated ass like a shiny black gumball and squeaked when he walked around the set in the velvet stilettos. “Any chance any of these is a job offer where I can actually play a guy again?”

Oscar's part as a transgender pianist in the recent smash hit romcom had gone well, very well in-fact, and despite its low budget and limited audience, it had been enough to land him in a part in a brand new show. Agnes had delivered the contract offer to him in his office and he had immediately started pulling off his acrylic nails – that is until he actually read the contract and realised it was for a female part. His recent portrayal had been so convincing that the studio wanted him to play Claudette – a bored housewife turned cougar who spent her screen time tottering around her home all day in outrageous outfits while her husband was out at work. Oscar had almost ripped up the contract on the spot until Agnes showed him what they were offering.

“All these creeps know I have a dick, right?” Oscar spat as he started to tear open the first envelope. The progression of his treatments and the further growing out of his perma-bleached hair made this statement almost comical. For everything else, there was prosthetics and makeup – for which he would spend hours every day in from a mirror while some bimbo painted him and cooed over the softness of his skin. He skim-read the letter, balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. The latex of his leggings squealed painfully against the counter top as he adjusted his position to pick up the next one. He paused after reading the first line. It was from Bianca.

“This is your last chance,” it read. “You think your career is in the gutter now? You think you can't sink any lower? Tell the world what you did to me, or I will show you the meaning of rock bottom. I will turn you into the whore you made the whole world think I am!”

“Agnes,” Oscar shouted balling up the letter, “make sure I don't get any more of these!”

Method Acting Part 1

 This is a four part commission done for DeviantArt

“I don't get it,” Oscar frowned, “I thought transgender actors were supposed to play transgender roles now. It's the latest industry bullshit...representation...” He practically spat the word. Had it really come to this? Was his career really so deep in the shitter? Since the sexual harassment scandal, it had been hard enough finding a new agent. So hard in fact, that he had to settle for the impossibly grey Agnes Crowe, who seemed ancient enough to remember silent film, and now, here was the old bitch telling him to put on a dress to revive his waning acting career. He rolled his eyes at her. “Okay, next! What else is there?”

“There is no 'next'.” Agnes stammered. “That is it. It is incredibly difficult trying to secure you offers given your...reputation...given everything that came out in the press – not to mention the ongoing lawsuits. The only other correspondence you have is from Bianca – she wants you to come clean.”

“Fuck her!” Oscar snorted. “I only have so many pounds of flesh to give...” Bianca had been his original accuser. Back when he was still a big-shot star, she alleged that he had made her sleep with him to secure a role that she never even got. When she came clean to the media about it, he had publicly ruined her – making sure that the entire industry saw her as nothing more than a gold-digging whore. When the allegations from the other women came out years later, Oscar's reputation was indeed in tatters but it was still far too late for Bianca. The world had kept turning and the movie business had left her behind.

“Noted...” Agnes pressed her lips together and looked at her feet. “Well, the reason the studio is willing to cast their net a little wider for the role is that they need an accomplished pianist. They could use a double for the key scenes, but they'd rather not and they remember your part in 'An Affair in Dmajor'. I really think you should consider it. Your legal fees are growing by the day and you don't currently have any other income.”

Oscar replayed the conversation in his head as he stood in front of a firing range of cameras and lights. Four months had passed since he signed the contract and from day one, the producers had insisted on a cocktail of hormones to get him into the 'shape' the role demanded. He hadn't read the script before signing because he never really thought had much of a choice but he now wished he had if for no other reason than to prepare him for what was to come. The lingerie scene tested his hormone treatments to the limit and as he leaned back against the piano waiting for the director to call 'action', he may may as well have been naked. The makeup chair, growing out his hair, all the walking up and down backstage in heels, could only do so much. Once the cameras started rolling, it was all him...for as many takes as it took to get his career back on track.

Subliminal Part 1

 10/25

“So, what's this then?” Max coughed loudly from his place at the head of the conference table in the boardroom of his high-end fashion empire. Women squawked excitedly as they gathered around an image projected on the screen at the other end of the room. There were obvious benefits to stuffing one's company board with attractive young women, but at times it really was like herding cats. “Ladies!”he finally barked, “explain!”

“The panel...” Anita his CFO turned to face him at last, her eyes bulging with wonder. “The test audience. The one we ran last week for the new ad... You know...” her voice dropped to a whisper as if there might be spies in the room, “...the subliminal one.” She turned back to the projector screen and Max followed her gaze. It was a shot of a young red-headed woman walking in the snow whilst dripping in Max Vektor merchandise – not just the dress and knitted roll-neck from their latest line but also a bag, a watch, boots – all high-end and very expensive. The penny dropped. It had worked. “Boss...” Anita turned back to him. “This is Kevin.”

“Kevin!?” Max almost spat out his morning coffee. “You mean this is a guy? And the ad did this to him?”

“Well, technically he did this to himself,” Anita replied. “But, yes, after watching the ad. His wife sent this picture in last night. Apparently he is completely addicted to our products now. He is completely obsessed with trying to look like the models from the commercial. She is threatening to sue.”

“But...” Max tried to stifle a smirk, “I thought the test audience were all women. Didn't Marketing only show it to our usual demographic of customers?” His smirk quickly disappeared as he began to ponder the potential legal consequences.

“They were,” said Anita. “I mean they did. But Kevin, he's the video tech who ran the test screening.”

“I see...” relief washed over Max and his grin returned. “So, he works for us... Well then, it should be pretty easy to keep this out of the press. We just need to give Kevin's wife some shares in the company and make sure that ad never sees the light of day!”

“Aren't you forgetting something, Boss? Anita responded urgently. “We previewed the ad in our last board meeting two days ago.” She glanced back at her colleagues frantically gathered around the screen. “We all watched it! You watched it!”

Whatever Happened to Frank? (Doll House Arrest)

 We last saw Frank here as part of a three part story

Frank stood in front of one of the apartments many mirrors and looked back into the kitchen area. Lola has posted a newspaper cutting on the fridge. He stepped back into the room and snatched it from under the magnet. His nails were still tacky from the coat of rose-pink polish Lola had insisted on. He flexed his fingers carefully so as not to smudge them, though the article before him made his stomach churn.

FUGITIVE BANK ROBBER PRESUMED DEAD

His mugshot stared back from the page: hard eyes, rough jaw, a man who didn’t smile for cameras. According to the story, the police believed he’d drowned in the river during a botched escape. Case closed. Investigation terminated. Dead. He was dead. He looked at another mirror. A stranger stared back. Her cheekbones were sharp, her lips plump and glossy, her hair pinned up elegantly. The white miniskirt she wore clung to her curves, curves Lola had paid surgeons handsomely to sculpt. Not a fugitive. Not a man. A doll.

“Isn’t it romantic?” Lola’s voice floated in from the doorway. She breezed in carrying a breakfast tray, humming, her bubblegum-pink robe swishing around her ankles. “Our anniversary gift! The state has declared you officially deceased. It’s like a second wedding certificate.” She set the tray down and kissed him on the temple, leaving a faint lipstick print. “No more police. No more hiding. No more of that dreadful mugshot.” She snatched the paper and flung it into the trash. “Now you can live as who you really are. My perfect, beautiful doll.”

Frank stared at his reflection again, heart hammering. He cursed how many mirrors she had put up. Her ceaseless reminders. “Lola, I can’t keep doing this.”

Her smile stiffened. “Can’t?” She leaned over him, her perfume thick and sugary, her nails resting lightly on his throat. “Darling, you are doing this. You’ve been doing it for a year. And I’ve never been prouder.”

He tried again, weakly. “Maybe it’s time I… left. Started fresh.”

Her nails tightened, just a fraction. “And go where? As who?” She laughed, high and sharp. “You're dead. Everyone knows it. You want to stroll into a bank looking like this and shout, ‘Remember me?’ You’d last five minutes.” Lola softened, stroking his cheek with mock tenderness. “Besides, I’ve booked something wonderful for us. A little touch-up on that voice of yours. Permanent this time. Once it’s done, nobody will ever doubt you again.” She kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “When they hear you speak, Frank will be gone forever. But, sugarplum, forever looks so good on you, so why don't you smile?”

The stranger in the mirror with the soft eyes and painted lips stared at him. A stranger who had his heartbeat, his thoughts, his prison sentence. He tried to imagine the man in the mugshot, the man in the article. But the harder he tried, the blurrier that face became. Finally, he did as he was told. In the mirror, the doll smiled back.

Liza's Final Lesson Part 4 (an Aiko Story)

 

Theo's body thrummed and tingled as if electricity was coursing through his veins. He felt the sunshine beating down on his legs. No...that wasn't right, he realised. They were wrapped in something. Something tight and soft and covered in delicate patterns. He liked patterns. He liked painting them on things...with his spray cans. The image of a spray can popped into his head and he suddenly felt a jolt of panic but didn't understand why.

He sucked hard on his lower lip. It tasted like strawberries. He sucked so hard that drool dripped down his chin and fell in a huge droplet to the ground, which he now realised was moving. No, that was wrong. It was him that was moving. He gazed down and watched with fascination as the feet with the rhinestones and tiny little bows moved him forward – first one then the other – left then right. But how?

He looked up again and saw the lollipop clasped in his outstretched gloved hand. He wasn't sure why but he needed that lollipop. It would fix him. It was why he was walking...to get the lollipop. Yet, no matter how far he walked, it was always at arm's length from him. He cried out in frustration...a soft feminine scree and then a more guttural caw.

Theo needed that lollipop. He was desperate for that lollipop. He was hungry, he was thirsty...he was horny for that lollipop! His skin bristled again and he became hyper-aware of all the different fabrics covering his body – the nylon of the tights on his legs, the soft cotton of his dress, the shiny satin of the slightly too small panties that hugged his butt. He was still horny for the lollipop but now he was sweating too. Someone had just turned the sun up.

Theo kept walking and memories washed in and out of his mind. He remembered his boner – his stiff cock stretching that silky material while the girls looked on open-mouthed. The one called Aiko had been annoyed and poked him with the brush and he had felt shame – even though it felt good, but the other one, the American one had laughed. Not in the way a girl laughs at a tiny dick – it was the joy that comes with full head-back enjoyment. It was the same joy he saw in her face when she put the diaper on him. He'd had a boner then too, but no-one could see – and he'd got another one when Aiko had been brushing his hair. It wasn't his fault. It was that damned lollipop. If he could just get it, everything would be okay.

Theo felt someone stepping up beside him, holding his empty hand. It was the American girl. She reached out and held his arm, folding it at the elbow so that his hand moved towards his face. So that's how it worked?! He opened his mouth to greet the welcome arrival. Everything was okay now. His erection would be gone in no time, and all would be well...

Liza's Final Lesson Part 3 (an Aiko Story)

 

“Aiko, can I ask you something?” said Liza after they had finally arrived at her Japanese friend's house. Their quarry was slumped on the floor, still drooling over painted lips. As soon as they had arrived, Aiko had urgently swapped Theo out of the diaper and flimsy pyjama set into simple set of satin panties, a basic white dress lined with material similar to a wedding veil and frilly ankle socks. She was now sorting through her vast wardrobe for the perfect outfit to complete his transformation. “Earlier,” Liza continued, “you said you used to feminise any boy, not just those who deserved it. Can I ask what changed?” She administered another dose of spray candy to the prone Theo.

“Oh Lizy...” Aiko popped her head out from behind a closet door. “Remember what I once told you. The sissies are not our prisoners, they are our guests. We should give them what they 'paid' for. I am not saying never take a boy because you want him. I am saying we can't be cruel. We must not be tyrants. We must be loving guiding hands.” She gently caressed the side of Theo's face and began to brush his hair in preparation of his final form.

“But, what about the clothes I put him in at mine?” Liza protested. “The satin pyjamas, the stockings...I have seen your blog. You have dressed boys in similar before. But when I do it, it is 'slutty'?” She administered more spray candy to Theo.

“You didn't mention the diaper...” Aiko raised an eyebrow, then finally sighed. “You're right...” she started to lay-out a dress onto her bed. “I did use to do things differently. But I changed... Things happened to my sissies... Things happened to my friend Nish..” She suddenly shot out an arm to prevent Liza giving Theo another dose of spray candy and looked her friend in the face sternly. “You give him too much!? You can't do that!? My candy is so powerful. It unravels them – unlocks the primal urges beneath. But not everything inside is sweetness and light! He could hurt you!” Aiko held Liza's gaze for a long pause. “Look!” Aiko helped a completely compliant Theo to his feet – his thousand yard stare boring through the bedroom wall. The veiled dress cascaded over his body but a throbbing erection tented his satin panties mercilessly. Aiko prodded at it with her hairbrush and the boy's upper-lip twitched.

“Holy crap!” Liza exclaimed. “I did that? Well...I mean, the candy did that?”

“With the candy we buy their control,” Aiko's face softened slightly. “But once we have it, we must keep it. We must be responsible...” The two girls stood in silence and for a few minutes and watched the boy's boner slowly fold back into its prissy home. “Good, now let's get Theo ready to join Danny at the cupcake store, shall we?”