Chapter 11 - Little Red Riding Shorts
Justin toppled sideways in the tiny restroom, bumping into the sink while trying to squeeze himself into the itty bitty red bottoms he was supposed to wear for that day’s scene. The stupid things were at least two sizes too small and made of some rubber-like fabric that had very little give to them. He had no idea how he was supposed to get them on over his admittedly plump ass. And, assuming he did manage to get them on, he could only imagine how sweaty and gross his balls would get in the unbreathable material. By the time Brian got to the part of the scene where he tore them off him, Justin’s ass was going to smell like . . . well, like ass. Yuck! Whoever’s brilliant idea these briefs had been, deserved to be fired.
Cursing to himself, he petulantly kicked the offending briefs from the only leg he’d managed to get them halfway on, stubbing his toe on the doorjamb in the process. Donning a robe instead, he stormed out of the bathroom, intent on chewing out the very first person he saw. Fuck this day! He was irritated with Daphne over the wardrobe, he was frustrated with himself, and more than that, he was confused and hurt by Brian’s reaction to waking up next to him that morning. In other words, it was a worse than usual Monday. Fuck it all!
“There you are, Jus! Thank goodness! I was so worried when you never came home last night,” Daphne expounded the minute she saw him, taking all the bluster out of his righteous fury. “Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“I . . . uh . . . I ran into someone on my way to the park yesterday and we got to talking and then we went back to his place to work on some photos he’d taken and . . .” Justin paused, letting Daphne fill in the blanks as she wanted.
“Oooo. Sounds hot! So, who is this photography wizard? Anyone I know? And was he good in bed?” Daph pressed for more details.
“Um . . .”
Justin wasn’t sure why he felt so reluctant to confess to Daphne that he’d spent the night with Brian, but for some reason, he just didn’t want to share that info. Maybe it had something to do with Brian’s less than thrilled response to seeing Justin still in his bed when the alarm had gone off at 9:00 am? That had definitely been an experience Justin didn’t care to repeat. Hell, he wasn’t exactly a morning person himself, but even he wouldn’t be as rude and cold as Brian had been that morning. Needless to say, it hadn’t been the best way to wake up, so he could probably be forgiven for not wanting to share the humiliating experience with his bestie.
And the really annoying part was that Justin had no idea what it was he’d done to raise the Stud’s ire like that.
They’d had the MOST wonderful night together. Seriously! After that first, intimate round of lovemaking, Brian had spent another hour or so taking pictures of every single part of Justin, interspersing the photos with kisses and caresses, to the point that the boy had been jelly in the big guy’s hands. The photo-shoot had eventually morphed into another round of sex. And then more photos. And then even more sex - that time in the shower - leading to photos of the beads of water dripping off Justin’s skin. And then they’d finally fallen asleep together, tangled up in each other’s bodies, so that it was almost impossible to tell where one man ended and the other began. In other words, it was EVERYTHING Justin had ever imagined love making should be like.
But then, after the alarm went off and Brian had rolled over to bury his face in Justin’s neck for one more moment of snuggling, it seemed like all hell had broken loose. It was like, the minute Brian’s brain came on-line, he’d totally freaked out. Brian had literally bolted out of the bed like it was on fire, leaving Justin lying there, blinking, wondering what had just happened. A minute later, Brian was picking up Justin’s discarded clothing off the floor and throwing it all in a heap in Justin’s lap.
“I gotta get going or I’ll be late for work,” was all Brian had said.
No, ‘Good Morning’. No, ‘thanks for last night, it was great’. No, ‘wanna get some breakfast?’. Nothing even remotely polite, let alone friendly. And after the sense of rapport they’d shared just a few short hours previously, Brian’s brusque comment had left Justin reeling.
He was still reeling, to be honest.
He had grabbed his clothing, dressed himself without a word, and then left as quickly as he could. Brian hadn’t even bothered to see him out or say ‘goodbye’. It was almost like Brian was two different men - one, the sweet, gentle, playful lover whom Justin had made love to for hours, and the other a manipulative, angry, uncaring asshole who’d used Justin’s body and was ready to discard him after he got what he wanted. But which one was the real Brian? What had triggered that abrupt personality change? And which Brian would Justin have to deal with that day while doing their upcoming porn scene?
“Justin? What’s wrong?” Daphne asked, immediately intuiting that there was a lot more than her friend was telling her.
“Ah, there you are, Justin. Did you have a nice day off?” Ted interrupted, stepping up to greet his employee with a satisfied and happy grin on his normally saturnine features. “Hope you got some rest, because we have a busy week planned for you. And your ass.” Ted giggled like a school girl at his own joke, getting only a pained smile from Justin and an eye roll from Daphne.
“The kid’s ass is indestructible, Theodore,” Brian added, appearing out of nowhere to contribute his usual pithy snark to the conversation. “He’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Brian punctuated his words with an overly familiar swat to Justin’s nether regions, leaving the younger man absolutely confounded. NOW Brian was being all jovial and friendly? Who was this guy; Jekyll or Hyde?
“That’s good to hear, Brian, cuz we’ve got some fun stuff planned this week,” Ted replied, obviously pleased with himself and his new enterprise. “I think if we get maybe two more weeks of daily shoots in, then we can start posting some content on the site and test the market a bit. Then, assuming that the response is as good as I expect, we’ll go ‘live’ by the Fourth of July weekend. How does that sound to you, Daphne?”
“It sounds doable. I’ve got enough material already in the pipeline to take us at least that far. And after we workshop the first few episodes, I’ll have more input to guide me from there,” Daphne commented, sounding all business.
“Good, good,” Ted remarked, rubbing his palms together with anticipation. “Well, then, let’s get started, shall we? Brian, Justin, you two need to go get into your ‘costumes’ so we can get started. Come on. Chop, chop!”
Ted began to shoo his actors away towards the little closet that served as their dressing room. Justin didn’t even get a chance to bitch at Daphne for the ridiculously impossible briefs before he was pushed along towards the bathroom again, red rubber shorts still in his hand. Brian, who was less modest, didn’t bother with any privacy concerns and simply began stripping off where he was standing before accepting the robe a set worker handed him.
Meanwhile, Justin managed, finally, to get into the red briefs by coating his legs and ass in the lotion he found in the bathroom. It was still quite the struggle to get them up over his butt AND cover his entire package at the same time, but he figured he wouldn’t be wearing them long anyway, so he ignored the tingling in his toes as he walked with purpose back to the set.
But, what with the exceedingly tight fit of the shorts showing off every single little bulge, he felt more naked than if he’d been wearing nothing. The annoying cat calls and comments from the stage crew didn’t help matters. By the time he was halfway across the room, he was blushing so deeply his skin was almost as red as the fabric of the damned briefs. Of course he also looked stiff and uncomfortable, because he was. The crotch on the bottoms was riding up into the unknown and undeniably chafing. He could actually feel his pulse in his groin. Plus, he was starting to sweat.
Since there was no helping it, though, he wiped a trickle of wetness from his brow and walked over to catch up to everyone else standing in the ‘woods’ set where they’d be filming that day.
“We’re doing fairy tales now?” Brian griped as he scanned through the script with a scowl. Then he looked at his costar and grinned. “And Justin looks like he’s wearing red rubber spray paint.”
“You’re complaining again, Brian,” Daphne pointed out with her best director face on.
“These are the most ridiculous pants I have ever seen,” Brian laughed as he circled a still-blushing Justin. “And I’ve seen a lot of crappy products from back in my advertising days, I can tell you. But these . . . These take the cake.” He looked over at Daphne defiantly. “You better not be planning to try and stuff ME into something like that.”
“Don’t worry, Brian. Only ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ gets those. You’re the ‘Big Bad Wolf’. You get these,” Daphne proclaimed holding up the pair of briefs Brian would be wearing as his costume.
“No fucking way!” Brian growled, apparently getting into character for the day’s scene.
Daphne flourished the pair of cotton briefs which were printed with the image of a wolf’s face on the front, displaying them for all to see, and earring a renewed scowl from their intended target. The underwear was ingeniously fashioned so that the cup where his package would be housed corresponded with the wolf’s snout. When on, Brian’s junk would fill out the wolf’s snout and create an almost 3D image of a wolf’s face right at crotch level. They were horribly kitschy but also kinda perfect for the fantasy porn scene Daphne had thought up for them for that day.
“Yes fucking way, Brian,” Daphne replied, shoving the offensive things into the actor’s hands.
“You can’t seriously want me to wear that . . . that . . . that crap?” Brian was so offended by the idea of those wolf shorts that he could barely speak.
“Get over yourself already, Brian. These are adorable. And they fit the part I wrote perfectly,” the writer maintained adamantly. “Besides, it was either that or a mask, but I thought you’d hate the mask even more since it would cover your face and nobody would be able to worship your beauty,” she teased.
“Plus, a mask would have made the blocking for the scene almost impossible,” Ted pointed out helpfully.
“But . . .” Brian was holding the briefs out and looking at them almost as if they were contaminated or something, obviously not reconciled to this costume choice. “But . . . But people are going to laugh at me in these . . .”
“There’s nothing wrong with adding a bit of humor to a scene. A sense of humor is one of the sexiest things in the universe. The ladies in my writing group loved these briefs,” Daphne insisted, hands on hips and stubborn gleam in her eyes.
“I’ll bet they did,” Brian frowned at her and at the shorts again.
“If you’re going to argue with us about every single scene, maybe I better rethink hiring you for this job, Brian,” Ted warned, arms crossed over his chest in a boss-like fashion.
Brian didn’t bother to respond. He just huffed angrily at his boss and the ridiculous woman who was writing all this crap. Then he sloughed off his robe and pulled the detested shorts on with another subvocal growl of discontent. Once he’d rearranged his package, though, he filled out the wolf snout quite nicely.
“Oooo! My, my, my,” a drawling southern voice interjected, causing all eyes to look over in the direction of the door leading out to the offices. “Ain’t nothing there but the Big Bad Wolf, Honey!”
“Hey, Em!” Ted greeted the newcomer. “Everybody, I’d like you to meet my friend, Emmett Honeycutt. He’s going to be taking over as our make up artist on set from here on out. Emmett, this is Daphne Chanders, my Head Writer. And this is Jaysin Pourne, the hottest new thing in gay porn - or at least that’s what we hope he’ll be once we start broadcasting. Oh, and you already know Brian, of course.”
“Howdy, All!” Emmett waved and graced everyone with his usual gap-toothed grin. “I gotta say, Bri, you make a perfect Big Bad. But then you always did.” Emmett then turned his attention to the blond that he didn’t know, casting a more than appreciative glance at the way Justin filled out his tiny red knickers. “I’m not sure I’d feed this tasty little morsel to a wolf like that, though. What our Little Red is packing in that basket sure does looking migh-t-fine. Mighty fine, indeed!”
“Pop your eyes back in their sockets, Honeycutt!” Brian snarled, stepping over so that he was physically blocking Justin from Em’s line of sight.
“All the better to see you with, my dear,” Emmett shot back with a chuckle, shooting another look at the way Brian filled out his own shorts. “And don’t call me ‘Honeycutt’. You know I hate that.”
“Those aren’t dumplings in that basket, though. Those are melons,” Ted joined in with the puns, cracking himself up.
“Well, if our Big Bad doesn’t want to gobble up this sweet little thing, I’d be happy to eat him myself,” Emmett added, peeking around Brian’s shoulder so he could continue to grin toothily at a blushing Justin.
“If you guys are done with the stupid puns, perhaps we could just get on with the damned scene already?” Brian commented, putting an end to the fun. “The sooner we do this shit, the sooner I can get the hell out of these ludicrous shorts.”
With that being said, Brian turned around, grabbed Justin by the arm, and towed his Little Red Riding Shorts over to their position in front of the green screen where a bed draped in a dark green coverlet dominated the space. That, plus a few potted ficuses and one rather anemic rubber tree plant were supposed to make up the ‘forest’ that Red was supposed to walk though, Brian supposed. He shook his head at the half-assed scene decorations. Oh well, he figured that nobody watching really cared about the background anyway - not as long as the sex was good.
“You ready to do this, Red?” he asked his scene partner, trying not to think about the stupid shorts or the fact that Emmett Honeycutt was laughing at him from the sidelines, or the fact that he was still feeling a little freaked out by whatever the hell had happened the night before between him and Thumper.
“I guess,” Justin replied, a little coldly, but Brian supposed he deserved that.
Whatever. They were there to act. And have sex. Lots of sex. It didn’t really matter if they got along, right? So Brian tried to concentrate on that to the exclusion of all else.
They said their lines - which were, not ironically, even cheesier than the stupid puns that folks had been passing around before filming started - and Brian tried not to roll his eyes when the cameras were directly on him. Who knew that there were so many ways to make a simple fairy tale so dirty? He and Justin kept eyeing each other, trying not to laugh out loud, so they wouldn’t have to start over and drag the ridiculousness out. They willed each other to keep their shit in line and not lose it. And all the while Justin squirmed, trying to get some relief from the unbelievably uncomfortable underwear.
Before long, it was time for the foreplay.
This was Justin’s second favorite part; the making out. Brian was soooooo good at it. Normally, Justin figured he’d be quite content to just make out for hours and hours, although today he had another agenda. He wanted out of those uncomfortable pants even more than he wanted to kiss Brian. But every effort he was making to hurry his companion along was met with stubbornness. Once he was out of the super tight underwear, they could make out all day. But by that point, he didn’t care about the scene anymore. He just wanted the fucking pants off.
Finally, finally, after what felt like hours of stupid posing, ridiculous lines and much kissing, the time came to get serious.
Except, by then, there was a little problem.
Brian leaned down, typical sexy leer in place, and tried his trademarked, jerk-em-all-the-way-off-in-one-swipe maneuver . . . but the britches didn’t budge.
Then Brian tried the crowd-pleasing slippy-slidey trick. Nope. They were still stuck.
Justin began to get anxious and it was showing on his face. The cameras were sure to pick it up. So Brian opted for the tear-‘em-to-shreds-Hail-Mary-Pass. But even that pass poofed into nothing when the damn shorts wouldn’t give a nanometer.
Brian tried again, this time wedging his entire hand into the back waistband of the briefs. It was even harder than he thought it would be. It was actual work. Hard work. Those pants were tighter than he thought and despite the fact that the cameras were still rolling, there was no way he was going to be able to get them off without an undignified struggle. Shit, how had the kid managed to get them on in the first place? Justin’s erection wasn’t helping anything either, sucking up any and all available give left in the damn things.
As Brian yanked and tugged at the material, Justin whimpered in pain. Brian’s hand was making everything tighter and tighter. The efforts to rid him of the briefs were cutting off his circulation even worse than before. His legs were tingling and he couldn’t feel his feet.
“Brian, uh, I can’t feel my legs. We gotta get these off,” he whispered, his face starting to show the same panic Brian was feeling surging through his gut.
Brian looked down, and sure enough, the kid’s legs were turning purple and puffing up, bulging around the bottom of the leg bands.
“Fuck!” Brian swore, ignoring the cameras and everyone else in his pursuit of any possible weapon against the perfidious pantaloons.
Spotting one of the set techs wearing a tool belt, Brian ran to him, pulled out and rejected various tools, until he finally found a utility knife. Racing back and dropping to his knees next to Justin, Brian extended the blade. That was when everyone else finally caught on that there was a problem and began shouting at Brian while Justin covered his crotch with both hands and tried to squirm away, fearful of losing a nut in the process of ridding himself of the killer undies.
“Fucking hold still!” Brian blasted as he pinned the boy under him and sat on his legs to keep Justin still.
“Noooo!” Justin wailed, scared of being dismembered and losing his favorite appendage.
Brian ignored him, pulled the waistband as far from the pale body as possible - which was scarily only an inch or so - and nicked through the band with the blade.
Justin immediately felt some relief and clamored for more.
“Cut me again! Now. Get them off!”
Brian kept focused, diligently and carefully cutting the rest of the way down the leg on that side, to Justin’s very vocal relief. Repeating the process with the other leg, Brian finally had him free. He tossed the blade to the side and shifted backward, taking in the damage to Justin’s strangled legs. Shaking his head, Brian set about gently massaging the blood back into the appendages, while Justin moaned.
“Justin, how the hell did you even get into those things?” Brian asked as the feeling came back into Justin’s legs with a barrage of pins and needles.
“I covered myself in lotion and tugged,” the blond answered, shrugging.
“Well, as stupid as these wolf briefs look, at least I have breathing room. And, for future reference, when you wear rubber, powder not lotion, got it?”
“Got it,” Justin confirmed with a thankful smile for his savior.
“Sorry about that, Jus,” Daphne commented, looking over Brian’s shoulder to make sure her best friend’s wardrobe issues hadn’t resulted in an impromptu sex change operation. “I didn’t realize the shorts were that tight. You okay?”
“I will be now that I’m free. Just, please, no more rubber clothing?”
“Deal,” Daph agreed with a pat to Brian’s shoulder as she stepped back.
Meanwhile Ted and the lead Cameraman were discussing how to proceed. “I think we can just skip ahead to the next part of the script. We’ll edit out the mess with the shorts,” Chuck advised his boss.
“Agreed. Besides, we don’t want to waste more time trying to find a new costume alternative and starting over from the beginning,” Ted acceded easily. “Brian, you and Justin can just pick it up from where you were before the wardrobe malfunction. Okay?”
“Fine.” Brian hefted Justin higher up on the bed and then stripped off his own - despised - costume before kneeling on the foot of the bed and waiting for his next cue.
Chuck spent a couple minutes rearranging cameras and lights and such before giving them the go ahead. “Okay, take it from Brian’s line where he says he’s gonna huff and puff and blow Little Red's basket . . .”
Brian groaned again at the atrocious dialogue, but said his lines like a trooper as he began to ham it up for the cameras. But there was a silver lining . . . As Brian climbed up the young blond’s succulent body, he noticed that, after the lack of blood flow, and the subsequent relief, Justin was now sporting the hardest boner he’d seen on the kid yet. Not one to let a perfectly good toy go to waste, Brian immediately set about giving him a blow job worthy of such an impressive display. He figured it was the least he could do to make up for not noticing the boy’s distress sooner than he had.
So Brian took his time, licking, sucking, nuzzling, and swallowing Justin’s cock. It was really no hardship, not at all. It was a pleasure really; pulling those erotic sounds from his castmate. He delighted in swatting Justin’s hands away every time the kid tried to grasp hold of something. Humor tickled his spine whenever Brian glimpsed how much Justin was enjoying himself. And every time Justin tried to speed things up, trying to hurry along towards his climax, Brian deliberately slowed things down in order to savor the experience and torment Justin with pleasure. The amount of self-satisfaction he got from tormenting the boy that way really should have been illegal. Not that Brian intended to relent though. It was all part of his plan for his Little Red Riding Shorts.
It was quite some time later - Brian had been having so much fun he’d lost track of time - when he eventually gave in and huffed, puffed, and blew the blond to orgasm. The kid gave a little grunt of fulfillment and then sagged almost boneless against the dark green of the draperies covering their bed. Not that Brian was done there; oh no, there was a lot more fun to be had in the deep dark woods with his Little Red Riding Shorts.
Brian quickly rearranged his victim so Justin was lying more centered on the bed and then pulled a condom out from under the edge of the coverlet where their stash was hiding. “Okay, Red, now that the appetizer is done, I’m ready for the main course,” Brian voiced his next line while moving to kneel in the vee of a still insensible Justin’s sprawled legs. “I think this is the part where you say something like, ‘Oh my, Mr. Wolf, what a big boner you have . . .’” he prompted with his wolfiest leer.
“He’s messing up the lines again,” Daphne whispered to Ted in the background.
“I don’t care. Keep rolling,” Ted ordered Chuck, while looking on the scene as it was being displayed on the monitor next to him. “This shit is golden. Those two film so well together . . . We’re going to be so fucking rich!”
“Fuck me, Mr. Wolf! Oh, yeah. Fuck me!” Little Red began screeching with pleasure.
Daphne threw her script in the nearby trash can and sighed. But then, as she joined Ted in front of the computer monitor that had the full green-screen generated forest background behind the boys’ forest lair bed and saw how great the scene looked from that angle, she relented. Ted was right; they were going to be so fucking righ. Script be damned.