Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
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Wrong Side Of The Camera free porn video
WRONG SIDE OF THE CAMERA
I am Steve, a 22 year old television presenter, determined to
get to the top as quickly as possible and don't care what I have
to do to get there. I have a growing reputation for doing those
things no-one would dare do, or want to do, even though it has
meant over-coming a few of my own phobias, not to mention the
odd black eye or broken nose.
It seemed all my efforts and sacrifices were beginning to pay
off when I was asked by one of the smaller satellite stations if
I wanted to front a trial series of six programmes looking at
the sexual activities and habits of different countries,
interview organisers and participants, and find out why they did
it, how they did it and what they get out of it, - 'the weirder
the better' they told me. Naturally I couldn't refuse, even when
I subsequently found out that the other two crew were Donna and
Michelle, both with a reputation of their own - suffice it to
say, that neither of them ever seemed to have boyfriends, and
they certainly seemed to like each other's company!
It wasn't long before we were on the 'plane to the U S of A. We
hadn't had much time to get together to discuss things before we
left, but they had told me that they would make most of the
arrangements, as it had been decided that a woman making contact
and explaining what we wanted to do would have more chance of
being accepted than if I was to do it. All I had to do, it
appeared, was just to turn up, do my bit, and enjoy. The first
day I lay around the hotel pool while the girls spent most of
the time in their hotel room making phone calls, and arranging
the schedule. I'm not one for the whole sun-bathing, usually too
busy, but there wasn't anything else for me to do except get
myself a decent tan, as I did stick out a bit as a typical pinky
white skinned Brit, and have myself a few beers - all on
expenses. Jeez, I thought, sarcastically, to myself; life can be
such a bitch sometimes!
Late afternoon my mobile rang, it was the girls telling me they
had arranged a schedule and I was to come up to their room so we
could go through it. Normally I would jump at such an
invitation, but with their reputation I knew nothing would
happen - as indeed it did not, for when I knocked, and was let
into their room, they both burst out laughing. Looking in the
mirror, I could see why, I had somewhat overdone the
sun-bathing, and although I had been careful to turn regularly
to get an even tan, I was now lobster pink, rather than pale
pink! They smiled at each other, and told me to go into the
bathroom and cover myself in the white lotion and then shower,
but keep it on for about 15 minutes 'to take the heat out' they
explained. At the time it all seemed plausible; I had no reason
to suspect otherwise. I wasn't going to discuss anything about
the schedule with them while I was totally naked, and despite
their protestations it was my intention to stay in the bathroom
until I was finished, they, however had other ideas, and burst
in as I was taking my showering the stuff off. To my horror, but
not it seemed to their surprise, all my body hair, except my
pubes, followed the suds down the plug-hole.
Although I was mortified, they were very dismissive, 'you must
have used the wrong bottle', and 'perhaps you've just had a
reaction to the lotion' was all they said, but told me not to
worry as all the guys shaved their bodies, and oiled themselves,
'it looks much sexier', they said to try and comfort me.
Pointing to my crotch, Donna then dared me that if I got rid of
that remaining patch of hair, they would both get in the shower
with me. They knew I could never say no to a dare, it was what
had propelled me through the ranks of the 'also rans'. They
rubbed a good handful of the cream into my pubes, took off their
clothes, both got into the shower and began to play with each
other. After about 15 minutes they pulled me in with them and
rinsed what little was left of my body hair away while I rubbed
soap over their breasts, and caressed their nipples, smugly
satisfied that I had called their dare, even though I knew I
wouldn't get any further than a quick grope.
They explained the schedule, and we went to bed early as there
was an early start. Next morning we drove out to a kind of
ranch, but for naturists. It sounded OK until we got there, when
it seemed that there were only single men, or aging couples. I
never realised how difficult it would be trying to do a serious
interview with groups of old naked wrinklies - almost enough to
put you off the naked body! Eventually we were happy with what
we'd got, and we left quickly, as the next shoot was that
evening, at a 'themed party' they explained.
We had dinner early, and got to the club at about nine as
instructed, before everyone arrived. It was only about a half
hour taxi ride from the hotel - a quiet, unpretentious place
from the outside; Donna said something to the guys on the door,
and we were let in, with our camera and sound equipment. It was
pretty dark; the main arena had a sunken floor, with a stage at
one end, with a short walkway coming out from it, like those at
fashion shows. There were tables on the upper level, with bars
curving round in a big circle, illuminated by pink and blue
fluorescent strip lights, all adding to the atmosphere. Michelle
led us across the empty floor, and a door to the side of the
stage took us backstage. This too was more like a theatre, with
numerous small rooms off corridors. We were directed up to the
executive offices, were we met the owners, Sylvia and Annie ,
both probably mid to late forties, and surprisingly very
ordinary looking -I mean they both so plain and ordinary
looking, they could have been my mother!
With formal introductions and usual platitudes over, Donna and
Michelle explained they would go with Annie to discuss the
boring bits of angles, lighting etc, whether they should
announce to all the attendees who we are, and what we are doing,
and agree the correct protocol etc and that they would let me
know when I was needed. I went off for a drink with Sylvia, and
asked her about the theme for the evening as I had only been
told it was a 'boys and girls' night, "Is that like when we used
to have the St Trinians theme for a fancy dress party, when
everyone dressed up as schoolgirls?" Sylvia smiled and said that
it was pretty much like that, and then spent about half an hour
giving me her life story, as she was originally from England.
I was quite relieved when she asked if I wanted her to show me
round. As we went back down the corridors, we could hear the
music beginning to drone, "sounds like things are beginning to
liven up" I said, "Yes, we open the doors at 9.30, and people
all seem to arrive pretty soon after that, it doesn't take long
before it's full" Sylvia replied. She showed me some of the
rooms, which were either like changing rooms, with mirrors with
lights all round them, "This used to be a theatre once, you
know" she said, "Yeah, I can see you've kept a lot of the old
features" I replied. Other rooms had like absolutely huge beds
in them, or strange furniture, or others were almost empty but
all very dark, "these are the playrooms, you understand" she
explained with a knowing wink. As she opened another door, she
said "You'll find this one interesting" By contrast it was all
white, brightly lit, with white tiles on the floor and half way
up the walls. There were white cupboards along two walls, and
full length mirror on the end wall, it was more like a surgery,
particularly as in the middle of the room was a long padded
bench, slightly raised at one end. As we entered the room,
Donna, Michelle and Annie happened to be there too, "fancy
meeting you here" I joked. This room they explained, was were
some of the 'special guests are got ready', this was beginning
to sound a bit juicier, "would they mind if we interviewed them
while they 'were being got ready'" I said, not really knowing
what they were being got ready for, but hoping this might be a
means of finding out. Annie said she didn't see why not
providing we asked their permission, and Donna suggested I sat
on the bench so they could 'line things up', which I always
thought was a way of enabling unimportant people to sound
important in front of those who don't know any different.
I propped myself up on the bench, and did a few poses for a
laugh; it's quite strange being in a weird environment with four
women staring at you. Suddenly Sylvia and Annie stepped forward,
one each side of the bench, and pushed be back on the bench,
grabbing my arms and securing them with some sort of quick-tie
straps to the framework. Another thicker strap across my chest,
and one over my knees secured me to the bench. I gave in easily,
assuming this was just there little joke, but when they
explained that they had decided I was to be one of the main
stars of the evening, I got worried, and started kicking out, so
they grabbed my feet and secured them to the bench as well. Now
totally immobilised they told me that this was not an ordinary
schoolboy and schoolgirls theme, but a 'little boys or girls'
evening, in fact Annie went on to say, almost exclusively a
'little girls' evening, "and we are going to turn you into the
prettiest little girl of them all", and they all laughed, and
looked very satisfied with themselves.
Annie then put a satin blindfold over my eyes, "don't want you
spoiling your surprise by peeking" she said in an increasingly
annoyingly patronising voice, just like the way grown ups talk
down to little children. I could feel my clothes being cut off
me, and when I dared to complain, an oversized baby's dummy was
shoved in my mouth as a gag, and tied behind my head. "Now you
behave like a good little girl, or mummy will have to get cross"
Sylvia said - this had now gone too far, and I had had enough.
I felt them undo the strap round my ankles, and when they undid
the straps round my knees, I kicked out at them in a fit of rage
and frustration. It was totally pointless as I was securely tied
down, and it only made them mad, and I got a sharp slap across
my backside which brought tears to my eyes, even under the
blindfold. I felt them doing something to my feet, and when they
did the same to my fingers, I realised they had painted my
nails. They lifted my legs up and put them in ankle cuffs
attached to the ends of a metal bar, which was then raised so my
feet were held up in the air, then another, much longer spreader
bar, was secured between my knees, forcing them outwards, and
leaving me laying there in a very exposed and vulnerable
position. I could hear them talking amongst themselves, one
congratulating Donna and Michelle on getting me to shave my most
private areas, unfortunately it was not exactly to their liking
and after warning me to keep still, they proceeded to remove all
remnants of any residual hair with a combination of sticky paper
and a razor.
By this time I had reflected on the days events, and had reached
the conclusion that for some reason it had all been a setup from
the beginning, and in my enthusiasm and naivety, I had walked
right into it. It was also quite obvious that there was nothing
I could do now, so I might as well accept what was coming. I
wouldn't give them the pleasure of trying to resist, but would
try and remain as dignified and professional as was possible
under the circumstances. At least that was how I justified to
myself my stupidity at letting myself get into this situation.
I was then brought back to reality by the feeling of something
cold being smeared all over by bum and balls, 'now I know what
they mean by as smooth as a baby's backside' laughed Michelle.
I then felt the softness of a terry nappy being slid under me,
and expertly folded to fit snugly round me, and pinned in at
least four places. Sylvia told me, in a very stern voice, that
she was going to let my legs down, and undo the ankle cuffs, but
warned me that there would be serious consequences if I tried to
resist, or did not do as I was told. "whatever", I said,
realising I had little choice. The bar was lowered, and my
ankles freed. My feet were put through the holes of a pair of
thick plastic pants which were slid up my legs. I was told to
lift my bottom, which I dutifully did, and they were pulled up
over the nappy. Short socks were put on each foot, and after
some discussion about size, each foot was slid into a shoe, and
a strap crossed over my instep, which was fastened at each side.
They then told me they were going to undo the rest of the
straps, and again warned me of the consequences of not doing as
I was told, but as they undid the straps securing each wrist,
they put the two halves of a hard, see-through plastic mitten
over each hand, glued the join with super-glue, holding it
together for a few seconds. When they let go, the mitten went
about half way up my forearm, preventing me from bending my
wrist, and rendering the fingers helpless. Until you got lose up
you couldn't tell I was wearing them, and so my hands looked
normal, even though the wrist and fingers were always straight,
but you could see my nail varnish. The other straps were
removed, and I was 'free' at last.
They then sat me up on the edge of the bench, with my feet
dangling over the end, but not able to touch the floor. The
terry nappy must have been huge and thick, as it felt is if I
was sitting on top of a fluffy mountain. I was told to put my
hands over my head, and a soft, cool, satiny slip was dropped
over my head, and I could feel the folds of a net petticoat
caressing my thighs. Despite my obvious predicament, it was
nevertheless intensely arousing, and I am sure I would have had
a huge erection if my cock had not been so snugly cocooned in a
mass of terry towelling. I was helped off the bench and stood on
the floor, I could feel that the shoes were flat, with no heel
at all, but there was such a thickness of nappy between my legs
that I could not stand normally, but my knees were forced to
point outwards. I was told to put my arms up again, and this
time the dress was lowered into place, with immediate coos of
delight and satisfaction from all those present - except me of
course!
The zip was done up, and I felt and heard a click and rightly
suspected that it had been locked into place, and two sash
ribbons, attached to the side seams, were pulled behind me and
tied in a huge bow at the back. The blindfold was removed, and
I was facing the huge mirrored wall, looking at what would be
the reflection of a pretty little girl had not the scale have
been distorted by the other adults next to me. Only then did I
realise that Donna was standing there with the camera running,
"have you been filming that" I mumbled incoherently through my
gag, but she realised what I was trying to say, and said that
the had got it all. I turned back and saw that I was wearing
black patent leather Mary Jane shoes, with straps that had also
been locked on, white ruffled ankle socks with purple edging,
and the most gorgeous little girls party dress, in white
organza, with a peter pan collar, and lilac edging in satin to
the collar, hem and sash, with a bodice of lilac net, on which
had been sewn dozens of little lilac and white flowers. The
sleeves were puffed, and finished just above my elbows with more
lace edged in lilac satin. The petticoat, of layer upon
alternate layer of lilac and white netting was really stiff, and
made the dress stand out so much I could not put my arms to my
side. It was short enough that I could see my see my plastic
panties, in a see through colour of lilac that still enable you
to see that I had a huge terry nappy underneath. Instinctively
I swayed back and forth and from side to side, and the dress and
net made a lovely swishing sound, combined with the crackling of
the plastic panties.
I looked at my face, and found myself being disappointed that it
spoilt the effect, and was relieved when Sylvia said that it she
was more pleased with the overall look than she could possibly
have imagined, but that they had to 'do my face' to finish the
job off properly. They sat me back on the bench, after showing
me how I had to lift my petticoat and dress first, and removed
the dummy. They then spent what seemed like ages in applying
layers of creams, foundation and colour before they were happy
that my skin tone was right. They finished it off with purple
and blue eye shadow, and plucked my eyebrows to create a more
acceptable brow line, (although I was relieved that they did not
make them an entirely feminine shape). A bright red lipstick
completed the doll-like effect, and when I opened my mouth as
asked, the dummy was shoved back, filling my cheeks out as
before, and again tied at the back. They secured a blond wig
with little ringlets that came down to just above my shoulders,
and put more lilac ribbons and flowers in my hair. It was
finished off with a lilac bonnet edged in white lace and lilac
satin ribbon, tied under my chin with a big bow. It had stiff,
extended sides and top that removed all my peripheral vision,
and made me have to turn my head right round to see at the
sides.
They all stood back, almost in a state of shock, to fully admire
and take in their incredibly beautiful creation; and it was a
creation, for when I looked in the mirror, I just could not see
how the figure staring back at me was me, I looked a completely
different person, it was if it was someone else. I wouldn't
admit it to them, but I loved it. It was pure escape, pure
fantasy, and yet the most sexually satisfying feeling I had had
for ages, dare I say it, at that moment of excitement, it was
better than sex itself.
I was wondering what would happen next, hoping that they were
not going to say that it was time to change me back, and
realised that this would present a big problem as they had cut
my clothes off me. Annie however cut me off in my thoughts as
she announced that it was probably about time for the sissy
parade, and that I was to be a surprise late entrant. Although
I had not noticed as my bonnet prevented me from seeing what
going on to the sides, the other three had left the room. Annie
had already buckled a white leather belt round me, and was
putting securing each wrist into the attached cuffs, so that my
hands, inside the stiff plastic, see-through 'mittens' were
pointing forward with my elbows pointing behind me, tight to my
sides. She led me out of the changing room, a short way down the
corridor, through one of the dimly lit rooms towards a door at
the opposite end. By this time I had totally lost my bearings,
but we had walked much further when we came in, so I guessed she
was probably taking me back to their private offices.
However, as she opened the door, there was a crescendo of noise
from a room full of expectant people, followed by a loud fanfare
of music, and as I went through the door, I was almost blinded
by a mass of spotlights, flashing lights, cheering, laughing,
hoots and whistles. I realised that somehow we were back on the
main stage; there was a row of others dressed similarly to me,
although not as pretty I thought, and I was in front of a packed
audience, being pushed towards Sylvia who was standing in front
of me at the far end of the catwalk. I did a complete half-turn,
because of the bonnet, to see if the door was still open to run
back through, but there was no escape, the change from the peace
and quiet of the past 40 or so minutes was such a complete
contrast to all the noise and lights, I was not prepared for it,
and I was suddenly quite scared, so scared and surprised in
fact, that to my complete shame and embarrassment, as Sylvia
came towards me, one hand outstretched to lead me forwards, a
microphone in the other hand, announcing, "Please welcome on
stage our newest convert, a stunning creation in lilac, let's
call her sissy Lil" and telling everyone all about me and what
they had done, I suddenly felt my insides explode, and I filled
my nappy with warm, squishy poo, and is if that wasn't enough I
felt a growing warm, wet feeling and realised that I had peed
myself as well. This did not go unnoticed, I have to admit it
would have been difficult not to, but my shame was completed as
Sylvia let the whole world know what I had done, and even made
me turn round and bend over so everyone could see her pat by
bottom as she was telling them what was lurking in there.
She took my hand and led me forward, the soggy mess between my
legs emphasising my already toddling gait forced upon me by the
sheer thickness of the nappy. I was getting accustomed to the
glare from the lights, and as we reached the end, to my horror,
in front of me were Donna and Michelle, filming everything - I
suddenly didn't want to be here any more, I was so embarrassed,
humiliated even, and extremely uncomfortable with a wet nappy
full of poo, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about
it. Sylvia was playing to the crowd, she asked me questions, but
I couldn't answer with the dummy gag in my mouth, and that made
people laugh even more. She made me do a few twirls, and
someone came up and handed me a huge trophy, I had won first
prize apparently, which I went to grab, but found that I
couldn't because my wrists were secured to my sides, which
caused further merriment in the audience. Sylvia announced that
I needed to be changed, which sparked an immediate reaction from
dozens of the audience offering to change me, but to my relief
Sylvia handed me back to Annie, who led me back to where I had
come in, to the cheers and applause of the audience.
In the comparative serenity of the backstage area, Annie seemed
very understanding and sympathetic, telling me what a good girl
I had been, and what a success I had been, "one of the best
nights we've had for a long time, and to think that your friends
have everything on film, I'm sure your viewers will be
impressed, and you've got a record you can keep for ever" she
told me. By this time we were back in the changing room, she
removed the wrist straps and belt, and told me to hold the dress
and petticoat up over my head to keep them out of the way. She
helped me onto the bench, and put my ankles back into the cuffs,
and raised the bar so it lifted by bottom off the bench. She
slid a plastic changing mat under me, slid my plastic panties as
far down as they would go, almost to my ankles, and put the
spreader bar between my knees. She carefully undid my nappy, and
as she opened it I could feel myself going red with
embarrassment as it was not very pleasant. Sylvia did not
however seem particularly concerned, and in a very patronising
voice even told me what a clever little girl I was to have such
a dirty nappy even though, as she told me, she had slipped a
little something in my drinks earlier to 'help me go'.
She cleaned me up, dried me off, and covered my parts in talcum
powder. She decided I didn't need a terry nappy this time, but
put me in the maximum absorbency disposable nappy, 'with a
little row of teddy bears down the front to tell us when you are
wet'. She lowered my feet, undid the cuffs and stood me up,
pulling the plastic panties back up, making sure everything was
properly tucked in and sealed. I was told I could drop my dress
and petticoat, and I let them once again fall round the tops of
my thighs. The disposables felt different to the terry nappy,
not so bulky but still quite thick, and yet it felt kind of
comforting and relaxing. Sylvia asked me if I needed a drink,
and I was suddenly very thirsty. She removed my dummy gag, and
I realised just how sore my jaw was; she gave me a drink of
orange out of a baby's bottle, assuring me there was nothing
unpleasant in this drink which is why she didn't put me back in
a terry nappy. When I had finished it all she told me that my
audience awaited me, and that so many people wanted to meet me;
she swapped the dummy gag with a more comfortable ordinary
dummy, but still tied round the back so I could not remove it,
and led me back into the arena, but this time on the main floor,
and with my arms free, although my hands were still immobilised
by the mittens.
I was the centre of attention, and quite enjoyed the popularity.
They asked me lots of questions, which I was able to answer
slightly more coherently with just the dummy. A few of them
bought me drinks, which they fed me from a beaker or a baby's
bottle, after first removing the dummy which they replaced
afterwards. I even freely wet my own nappy, I was past caring,
and was even beginning to enjoy it again. Too soon, however,
Donna and Michelle found me and told me we had to leave as the
taxi was waiting. I was unsure about going out in public, as the
PA system announced our departure, and everyone stopped and
formed a line up for us to exit through amid tumultuous
applause.
I jumped quickly into the back of the taxi-cab lest anyone saw
me, and we were soon back outside the hotel. I was incredibly
scared walking into the foyer, but fortunately it was the early
hours of the morning and no-one was about, even the girl on
reception just looked up at me and merely said in a very
unsurprised tone, "been to the Blue Azure Club then" and handed
Donna our keys.
Back in my room, Donna produced a carry bag that we had not
taken with us when we left. Michelle decided it was time for bed
and took off my bonnet, dress and petticoat, and removed by
shoes and socks with the help of the keys Donna handed her from
the bag. I was sad and disappointed to take everything off, but
Donna pulled another disposable out of the bag, saying Annie had
given her a pack of another dozen and that it would be rude not
to make use of them. They told me to lie on the bed, and changed
my now wet nappy for a clean dry one. She also found a cotton
onesie which they put me in and some booties to make sure I did
not get cold in the night. They helped me into bed, leaving the
wig and mittens on, and turned off the lights saying that they
would be back for me in the morning.
As they pulled the door closed behind them I lay alone,
realising how helpless and dependent on them I now was. With
every slightest movement, the crackle of the plastic panties
reminded me of my situation. A thousand thoughts went through my
overtired little brain, how they had set me up, how I should
feel revulsion and anger and yet how I was so glad that they
did, and where did I go from here. As I was trying to relive
every precious, wonderful minute, no second, of the past twelve
hours, I drifted of to sleep, wondering how my life will ever be
the same again.
There were no further surprises during the rest of the trip.
Unfortunately, the dress, petticoat, bonnet and shoes had to be
returned, but I kept the socks, panties and disposables. I spent
more evenings than usual in my own room, Donna and Michelle
seemed very happy with each other's company, suffice it to say
that by the time I had to pack my bag to leave, there were no
disposables left to put in with the panties and socks.
Donna and Michelle hardly mentioned that night all the way home,
but from their knowing smiles I knew I had not heard the last of
it; exactly when and how I would just have to wait and find out,
but all the evidence was on a tape, and I had checked all that
were there, and that evening was not one of them - they were
keeping that one for themselves.
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