Scene 29
By Alpenhorn
alpenhorn@hackermail.com
Copyright 2017 by Alpenhorn, all rights reserved
*
* * * *
This
story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced
nudity,
spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for
the
purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be
attempted
in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not
of legal age in your community to read or
view
such material, please leave now.
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* * * *
SCENE 29
[8 May 96]
by
Alpenhorn
Posted
somewhere in 1997, presumably now defunct.
Posted to
y!gallery in 2007
Mostly my
job seems routine and hectic. Sure, I can often see movie stars (and even great
actors) from a distance. But that is no longer much of a thrill. But once in a
great while something amazing comes my way. That makes all the routine work
seem worth it.
It is one
of these special incidents that I am reporting here. It happened a few years
ago. Many of the details have been omitted (and a few others changed) in order
to protect the privacy, reputation, or freedom of those involved--including me.
I do makeup
in Hollywood. Sometimes you may be able to see my name in the end-credits of a
movie. But more often you won't see me at all, since the credits will include
only the makeup supervisor.
Makeup was
not my first choice of career. In college, I had plans to become the next Orson
Welles. But getting a start in Hollywood is not easy. After futile attempts to
break into the business from several angles, I fell back on makeup. My mother
had owned a 'beauty parlor' (as they were called back then), and I was
underfoot there beginning at about the age of two. So I knew a thing or two
about makeup. After doing makeup on a few really low-budget films, my work was
good enough to get me onto the staff of films with larger budgets. But still,
after almost ten years, I am at the bottom of the heap. So far, doing makeup
has not provided any opportunities to move on to other parts of the biz.
In
big-budget movies, the major stars may each have an individual makeup artist
(perhaps in addition to a hair stylist). Then, for the less-important stars,
there may be makeup people doing three or four actors. Finally, for the minor
speaking parts, there will be makeup people each taking care of large numbers
of actors, since most of them will not have close-up shots needing detailed
work.
Take the
movie I am going to describe here. (No names, please.) The bottom-rung makeup
was handled just by Martha and me. On a typical day, we each had around five
serious makeup jobs and perhaps up to 20 minimal jobs. What had to be done
varied from day to day, depending on what scenes were to be shot. Usually not
all of the actors had to be ready at the same time, so they were scheduled to
come in at certain times during the morning (and sometimes returned later in
the day, if they were needed in a second scene).
Sometimes
(especially when I have a 'special' actor to do) I tell them some little fibs. For
example, when I complete the makeup job, I may take one or more Polaroid photos
of the results, telling the actor that this will help me match the makeup if we
have to the same scene (or a similar scene) in the future. Another fib I tell
them is that makeup artists are jealous of their professional secrets, so they
should not discuss my techniques with any other makeup artists in their future
careers. This may help keep my 'unorthodox' methods from coming to light and
getting me kicked out of the trade.
Back to the
story. For the movie I am telling you about, one of my subjects was a really
cute boy. A minor 'teen idol'--the teen magazines might have mentioned his name
three or four times that year, and perhaps published a picture once. (I have
noticed since that time that he has become a *lot* more prominent. But that is
not part of this narrative.) Because I had a 'crush' on him, I would try to
arrange that he was the last one to come in for early-morning makeup.
Now, for
some movies the makeup people all share one large room. But in this particular
movie the facilities were arranged so that I had my own individual room. There
was a mirror on one wall, with the proper lighting; a counter where I kept the
'tools of the trade'; and a large leather swivel-chair for the subject. There
was also a couch along one wall, where those next in line for makeup would sit,
or others talking to the actors. Since all child actors must have a parent (or
equivalent) on the set, parents would often come with the child actors, sit
there on my couch, and drink my tea. The boy in this story always had his
mother on the set, and I got to know her since she came to the makeup sessions
about half the time.
I remember
the first time I had to do serious makeup (makeup suitable for a close-up shot)
for the boy. Like many child actors (especially boys), he questioned the need
for makeup at all. I gave him the usual reasons: "The cameras and lights
they will be using would make you look abnormal--pale like a corpse--so we need
to brighten up your colour." The boy was blond, so I gave him the Michael
Caine story. (Was it really Caine? I suppose if I keep using this, I should
look up the correct name for it.) "He once said that he owes any success
as a leading man to the makeup artists. Since he has blond eye-lashes, like you
do, his eyes don't seem compelling in a close-up. So he said he owes his
stardom to mascara, which gave his eyes a hypnotic, romantic appearance." Or
a third reason for makeup: "You're about 13 now, aren't you?" (His
mother confirmed it.) "Well, you will be getting acne now and then." (When
his mother noted that he was already starting to get some, he was clearly
annoyed with her. After that she shut up.) "Well, acne varies from day to
day. We don't want it apparently jumping around your face when consecutive
scenes are filmed on different days. So I do my best to make it
invisible." (I didn't give him my argument against many movie makeup
artists: Excessive makeup, such as lipstick, for men or even for women who are
playing the part of someone not wearing makeup. I think it is often overdone.)
The actor
in my story (no names, please) was a delight to work on. He would relax when I
told him to; he had no earrings to work around; his simple short hair style was
in no danger from my work; he was not shaving yet, so there was no beard to
cover. And he had a nicely cleft chin. I remarked about it once to him, saying
how far Kirk Douglas had gone with his chin. To take advantage of the cleft in
the chin, I would use a darker shade of makeup to emphasise it with a shadow
effect.
Most times
when I did his makeup, I had only to do his face and neck; and sometimes the
arms (when he would be wearing short sleeves); I noticed that his arms were
rather thin--not muscular. But I remember vividly having to do more makeup for
one scene. It was to be a scene where some boys were playing basketball. He was
to wear cut-off jeans and a T-shirt; then during the scene he was to take off
the shirt. So I asked him to stand in the space beside the chair, while I sat
on a low stool to do his legs. What little hair there was on his legs was
blond, so it was invisible, and no problem.
Then I
stood up and asked him to take off the shirt. As he pulled it over his head, I
saw no sign of hair, either on the chest or under the arms. No makeup problems
there. I covered some acne on his back, the same way as on the face. As I added
a little emphasis for the nipples, he laughed because it tickled. His belly
button was an 'innie', so I used a darker shade of makeup for emphasis; I used
my pinkie to put it in, making the boy jerk in surprise, then he laughed again.
I noted he was a bit pudgy in the front. "In order to grow up into a teen
idol, you will have to start working out a bit," I said. "Get your
arms bulked up and your tummy flattened down." His mother's remark led me
to believe that I was not the first to tell him this. And nowadays I can see in
his newer movies that he has toned up quite well, indeed.
Another day
there was a scene where he was to get wet in a rainstorm. I had planned up one
of my little fibs for that session. I told him that the makeup I normally use,
which is applied mostly with a brush, would not withstand getting wet. So I
would have to use another makeup base that would have to be massaged into the
skin. That was only a 'face, neck, and arms' day, but I enjoyed applying the
makeup more than ever. But the real reason for this fib was preparation for 'Scene
29', which was to come up a bit later.
The
'climax' (so to speak) of this little story is Scene 29. This was a
junior-high-school shower scene. The scene was early in the movie, but filmed
only midway through the shooting schedule. Some of the boys were to be nude--it
was a closed set with only the actors and the essential crew, so no mothers
were to be present. Two of my actors were to be in the scene. One of them would
only be seen in the background, so I took care of him easily. The other was my
favourite boy. I made sure he was the last one on my schedule for the scene. He
arrived (unfortunately with his mother) right on time. His mother had brought a
fuzzy bathrobe for him to wear while the makeup dried, and between takes on the
set. And a small flight-bag to hold his clothes. He was wearing his usual jeans
and T-shirt.
First I had
him sit in the chair while I did the face, neck, and arms. Since he would get
wet, my fib about massage went over without question. Then I had him take off his
shoes, and I prepared his feet. Why do kids never clip their toenails? I had to
do it for him. I took my time on the feet, including some extra tickling,
anticipating what would come later.
Next I
asked him to stand in the space beside the chair and take off the shirt, so I
could do his upper body. He threw the shirt over the swivel-chair. This was the
first time for me to do the massage of his back, chest, and tummy. I wondered
if he (or his mother) would notice how fast my heart was beating. I was careful
to breathe normally. And I gave him a few extra tickles on his sides, making
him laugh again.
Then I
asked him to take off the jeans. Under them I found he was wearing some
light-blue cotton briefs with dark-blue waistband. He threw the jeans also onto
the chair. I sat on my low stool and did his legs. This time all the way up to
the *very* top, and with massage. I had already seen, even in the jeans, that
he had a nicely rounded bum. Now it was confirmed. But in the front of the
briefs I could not tell much; they seemed to be rather loose. While he was
standing there wearing just the briefs, a few people walked by the room in the
hallway outside, as was always happening. But now I thought perhaps some of
them went by more than once to look in through the open doorway. I realised
then that I should have closed the door first. Fortunately, both the boy and
his mother were facing away from the door, so they did not know about my lapse.
Finally I
was ready for the ultimate. "Now we will need to remove the shorts," I
said. "Do you want your mother inside or out?" After a short glance
in her direction, she volunteered to leave. "I won't be able to go to the
shooting anyway," she said, "so I will run some errands. Good luck
today, Sweety." (I could tell the boy did not like to be called 'Sweety'
where I could hear.) She left, and I closed and locked the door. I positioned
my stool directly behind him and said, "Off with them." He began to
pull them down. "Do you want them here around my thighs, or completely
off?" he asked. I lied, "I don't care; whichever you prefer." He
took them off and threw them onto the chair with the other clothes.
Locked in a
room alone with my boy idol! And he was completely naked!! As I said at the
start, sometimes something amazing comes my way!
Calm down!
I am a professional. And if I got too far out of line, his mother was sure to
hear about it in the evening.
I began on
his butt. I said before it was nicely rounded. But now I could see it was spectacular.
Since he obviously hadn't been working out, this must be its natural shape. "First,
we do these cheeks," I began. "They are done slightly rosy in the
same way as your other cheeks." What a stupid joke; I must try not to show
how nervous I was. 'Tan lines,' I thought. 'This will require more makeup to
eliminate them. Or--wait a minute--I'm the makeup artist. Maybe the character
should ALSO have tan lines.' So I asked the boy. We decided to keep them. So in
fact I used the makeup to make the tan lines even more pronounced. (Personally,
I find tan lines very sexy.) After that I went on, "Now, to emphasise the
crack with a shadow effect, we will use a darker shade." As I did this, he
squealed at the unexpected hands massaging him there. "And also darker
under the bottom. These nicely rounded babies should excite a few of the
pre-teen girls coming to see the movie!"
"Sometimes
I don't think I want an audience looking at my body that way," he
commented. I stopped rubbing and sat back. "You know, if you have doubts
the producers will provide a stand-in for this scene." He laughed, "I
only said 'sometimes'-- most of the time I am delighted by the thought. My
mother and I discussed it with some of the production people, and we decided to
go ahead. It is exhilarating to contemplate. I don't think I have been this
geared-up since my first screen test." I said, "I'm glad to hear
it," and finished the buttocks with a tweak between the legs. He started,
then laughed.
"Okay,
now turn around toward me. As you probably know, the scene is only supposed to
show you from the back, but the director asked me to get the front ready just
in case." Actually, that was my biggest fib yet! (The director wouldn't
deign to talk to me. Usually I got my instructions from an A.D. And even then
he would only send them to me by fax or e-mail.) The boy turned. At that
moment, he became my favourite boy in all the world! Fortunately I was sitting
down, or my knees would have given out.
Have you
ever had the impression that time has stopped? I don't know how long I held my
breath at the sight, but it must not have been as long as it seemed, because
the boy didn't seem to notice anything strange.
The penis
was shorter than I had expected. 'A pudgy willy, to go with a pudgy tummy,' I
thought to myself. But then I realised that, at 13, he still had quite a bit of
growing to do. The foreskin ended in a small 'nipple', off to one side. The
testicles were nicely large. My meager knowledge of boyhood development
reminded me that this enlargement is often the first sign of puberty, even
before the growth spurt. The scrotum was fairly tight-- at least today, and
under these circumstances--holding the balls to the front, and their support in
turn helped the shaft of the penis to incline outward as well. The genitalia
were a bit brownish in colour, especially compared to the untanned nearby skin.
"Why
do I need makeup down there?" he asked, perhaps to hide his own
nervousness. "Well, with no makeup the camera may seem to show a a
withered, limp, brownish mass. Instead, we want to have the impression that
'it' is vibrant, pink, firm, and alive." Actually, since this was my first
male nude job, I was making it up. Genital makeup is not something they teach
in cosmetology school! (I had done some women's nude makeup, back when I was
doing low-budget slasher movies.)
"My
instructions are to de-emphasise the pubic hair," another fib. "That
way you look younger. But since yours is blond that is no problem." In
fact, there was only some soft wispy hair immediately around the base of the
tool.
I paused,
gathering courage for the next fib. "Okay, since you will be getting wet,
we need to massage the makeup base in. Now there is a choice." (Maybe I
should teach this course in cosmetology school, I thought.) "If I start to
massage, and you get an erection," (the boy seemed to be holding his
breath) "then I pretend not to notice, you pretend not to notice, I get
embarrassed, you get embarrassed, and we have a difficult situation. Or, on the
other hand, we could treat the erection as intentional--actually it would be
easier to massage the makeup into the skin of your penis if it is hard. Which
do you prefer?" He whispered, "The second."
I waited a
bit. Nothing. "Do you want me to do it?" He did not seem to know what
I meant. I got some mineral oil from my drawer and went to work using long,
slow strokes. After a while we had the firmness we wanted. The pinkish head
could just be glimpsed peeking from the foreskin. I quickly applied the makeup,
trying my best to achieve the 'vibrant, pink, firm, and alive' effect I had
proposed. The scrotum had to be brightened up, too, and I added a shadow effect
for emphasised roundness. Perhaps in all it took less than a minute, but I am
likely to remember that minute to my dying day. I finished with a few tickles
to the balls. He was getting to sound like he enjoyed my tickling.
"That's
it!" I said as I gave him a slap on the butt (not only to feel him once
more, but also to watch his stiff rod vibrate back and forth). "Put on
your bathrobe and wait a few minutes for 'it' to go down." He put it on.
And he put his clothes into the flight bag he had brought. "Can I leave
now?" Time for the last fib. "No, we still have to do the Polaroids
after the erection goes down." His eyes widened. "What? Naked?" I
tried to calm him. "Of course. You know the reasons. Besides, you will
soon be just as naked on the Big Screen. And I promise not to show them to
anyone." He paused. One more objection. "But there is only today for
this scene, so we won't have to do it again." Fib away... "There is
always the possibility that a scene will need to be re-done later if it comes
out wrong."
So I got
some great photos. Front, back, and angles. No, they are not for sale--I have
kept my word never to show them to anyone else.
After that,
the makeup for that movie was mostly routine. I would only see my favourite boy
a few more times. But I would dream about Scene 29.
And
then--miracle of miracles--near the end of the shooting schedule, word came
down (or up--anyway, by fax) that Scene 29 needed more work. So I got to do it
all over again.
This time
my favourite boy did not bring his mother at all. And I remembered to close and
lock the door before he started to disrobe.
We did
everything in the same order. I got into a sort of rhythm--I would apply the
makeup to a portion of his body, and when I finished I would add a little
tickle--under the chin; behind the ear; soles of the feet; lightly on the ribs;
and so on. When I did this I would say, "Tickle tickle!" as playfully
as possible. He would laugh.
When I
finally got to the genitals, they were even more glorious than I remembered. I
noticed how his cock waggled back and forth as he turned around to face me. I
was seated on the low stool, so that wonderful exhibition was just centimetres
from my face. I still could not tell if he suspected my extra interest, but he
made no remark.
As I
reached for the mineral oil, he said, "No need for that. I can do it
myself. I've been practising." (He never told me how, or with whom, he had
been practising.) He got a far-away look in his eyes. I watched in amazement as
his willy began to lengthen. Then to rise. It moved upward in a series of
jerks, timed with his heartbeat. (And with mine.) Full erection, pointing right
up into my eyes, in an amazingly short time. I was flabbergasted. But then I
thought to myself, 'If this kid can get tears to flow on demand by thinking the
right thoughts, then why not this?'
It was time
to massage in the makeup. I thoroughly 'felt up' the balls as I worked there,
moving them side to side, apart and together, around in circles. Then the
shaft. It was thinner near the base, wider just before the head. And hard!
Older folks like me forget what the 'hard' in 'hard-on' means. It was like
massaging a carrot. If moved a bit out of position, it would snap back as soon
as it was released. I took out the photo and compared with it as I restored the
'vibrant, pink, firm, and alive' colouring (even though my memory was crystal
clear on it). When I held my fingers still, I could feel his penis throbbing
with his heartbeat. I finished with the makeup. I said "Tickle
tickle!" as usual, while I boldly pulled the foreskin back with finger and
thumb of one hand and ran a fingernail of the other hand along the most
sensitive part. My favourite subject gasped and lurched up onto his tiptoes.
"All
done," I said reluctantly. "Now we can wait a bit and take the
photos." He frowned (but was it a bit playful?) and asked, "Even
today? Shooting is nearly done." I insisted, "Yes, today like every
day." I pointed to call his attention to his engorged beauty sticking up. "How
long for you to 'subside'?" Then he surprised me: "Why wait--wouldn't
a photo while I'm still 'up' like this make it easier to match next time?"
He illustrated the question by thrusting his hips, so that the lovely item was
practically in my face. After a pause to consider (no, not really), and to
stare at it for a few more seconds, I replied, "No, photos like that could
get me arrested for Kiddy Porn." The boy thought that was weird.
He said,
"Well, no waiting this time. I practised this part, too." I wondered
what to expect now. He clutched his hands together behind his back, perhaps to
keep them from doing things of their own accord. He got the far-away look in
his eyes. Soon his scrotum contracted a bit more, and his body began making a
slight rhythmic jerking. He was trying to hold still during the orgasm, and did
a remarkable job of it. At the end he let out a few grunts, though. I suppose
he was still too young for an ejaculation, but as his body relaxed, I saw a
single round droplet perched neatly atop the end of the penis. The entire
performance had occured only centimetres from my eyes. Only great self-control
kept me from leaning forward and taking the droplet onto my tongue. But instead
I reached to my supplies, got a small square of blotting paper, and touched the
droplet lightly with it. The paper absorbed the liquid, which formed a small
irregular dark spot.
True to his
word, his dick was now limp enough for photographs. But there was an extra
sparkle in his eyes as I took them. I wonder whether I needed to be concerned
about his sensing my voyeurism--perhaps he was acting as an exhibitionist,
either intentionally or instinctively.
A final
note: Much later, when I saw the finished movie, Scene 29 had been eliminated
completely. Not a trace. Too bad. Oh well, at least I still have my Polaroids.
When the
filming had ended, there was the traditional wrap party. The bigwigs drank too
much and talked loudly, while the little people like me politely stood by the
walls and gawked. But the boy made a point to come over and see me. "Thanks
for everything!" What a polite boy--the director never thanked me; and
none of my other actors thanked me. He went on, "I hope we can work
together again some time, Miss Webb." I responded, "There's no need
to be so formal. Call me Eve. After all, we know each other pretty well, don't
we?" He turned on his famous million-watt smile and winked. "Bye,
Eve!" My knees almost gave out. "Bye, Sweety," I whispered.
* END *
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