The Sex Rehab Diaries Brooklyns Confession
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SheCameFromNowhere free porn video
"Listen to me. No, no, listen", I paused, sighing as the man across the
desk opened his mouth to speak. "Larry, for fuck's sake listen to me. You
know me, alright? The studio knows me. The people know me. Have I ever
let you down? In the ten years I've been with you, in the...nine movies
I've been in? No, I haven't, have I? And you know my speciality, my
talent, my...mimicry, right? So come on, just tell me what you think"
"I don't know, Bob, it's a hell of a risk. What if you get caught?
There'd be a hell of a backlash against us. You know what they're like
over there- they don't like anything that isn't normal, and this, Bob,
this isn't normal! But it's a great idea, and the public like this kind
of thing, but you do realise that if you get caught, if people figure it
out, you won't have a career? You won't have anything to go back to, you
won't have anything to go to. Nobody will ever hire you in this industry,
or any other industry. You'll have to go into some kind of goddamn exile,
Bob, because your name'll be shit to everyone. I'll talk to the studio,
though. We'll get something going. If you can pull this off-"
"I can do it", I interrupted him, leaning forward as I smirked as at him.
For a moment I paused- and then the voice that came from my lips was
rich, smooth, cultured, but most decidedly a woman's voice. "I can
absolutely do it, Mr Denton".
He grinned, and waved me away, and I knew, as I walked out of the door,
that it would work.
------------------------------------------
Everyone who was anyone in the business knew who I was; Robert Willis,
32, born in Plymouth. I'd grown up obsessed with speech and linguistics,
working on accents and dialects until, by the time I went to drama school
in my teens, I was able to pass for any nationality I wanted to- vocally,
anyway. I hadn't grown up to be a classically handsome man- I was too
short, at 5'8, with a body that ran to slim, a face that was a little too
feminine to be anything but beautiful, and skin that was far too pale; my
eyes, though, were something I partly built my career on. Large and
expressive and an unusual grey-blue colour, perfectly complementing the
honey-blonde of my hair.
All-in-all, though I was never leading man material, I'd made myself a
good career out of playing the main side-character, be they the best
friend who spurs the protagonist to declare his love, or the brother who
tells the sister to go out and live life. Sometimes I was Irish,
sometimes American- I'd even, briefly, been an Australian in a bit-part
in some TV period drama. The point was, whilst I'd had a moderately
successful career, I'd never enjoy anything more. I'd never be a sterling
actor, never be an A-lister, never win an award for anything I did,
though I knew I had the skills, the talent, the ability. If only I'd been
able to find something I could 'star' in, then maybe I could have shown
people the full extent of what I could do. I could be known for being an
incredible actor, not just 'the pretty-boy with the accents'.
And then I hit upon a genius idea.
A few years ago, there'd been some publicity surrounding an actor who'd
seemed to have gone off the rails; acting weird, dressing oddly, letting
himself seemingly go to ruin, letting go of a career that had been wildly
successful in order to, basically, go insane for a year. Everyone had
speculated about what had gone wrong, leaping to all kinds of
conclusions- and then, eventually, when they'd all generally condemned
the man for his behaviour, he'd changed to his old self and announced it
had all been for a movie. It had been released, people had flocked to it,
and it had renewed his career.
So my thought was this; people liked mystery and intrigue, and they also
liked documentaries, mockumentaries, getting a look into the private life
of people. They also liked controversy, and speculation, and being
completely and utterly nosy. Therefore, I thought, why not give them
exactly what they wanted, as well as giving myself the boost I needed?
The idea went as followed; a film would be released, called 'She Came
From Nowhere'. It would follow an unknown actress would be followed
around by cameras as she landed a major role in the latest motion picture
by a major studio. Some of the biggest names would be attached to the
film that the documentary would be based around, and it'd follow her
through the filming, the publicity, the pre-release PR, the expected rise
in fame following the release of it. There'd be minor controversy along
the way- she'd be revealed to be a lesbian, starring in a sort of female
version of Brokeback Mountain by way of Nicholas Sparks; she'd be older
than people had thought, she'd be something other than the English rose
she appeared to be. There'd be a mystique, an enigma worked up around
her, and then, when it was all too much to bear, the documentary would be
released, and there'd be an important fact revealed.
This actress, the one everyone would be in a frenzy about, would be me.
It was all too simple, really- the studio had an incredible special
effects studio, who'd make me something a little special to give me the
right appearance, the studio would take care of all paperwork needed for
my new identity, and I'd take care of the rest. Luckily, not only could I
fake several accents, but several accents in a flawless woman's voice,
too. It was a plan that would work on secrecy and intrigue, but it would
work.
I spent a while forming the perfect appearance, the perfect identity,
until I had what I wanted; Viola Bard (so named for the character from
Twelfth Night, by Shakespeare, a man famous for his plots involving
people pretending to be other people). She was 25, born in London, a
woman who'd moved to America to pursue an acting career she never really
expected to have. With her dark hair, pale skin, and beautiful big blue-
grey eyes, she'd bring to mind actresses of old; Hepburn, Taylor, and so
on. She'd be the classic English beauty, with just the right amount of
vulnerability and humility; a quiet girl with a crisp accent and a ready
smile. Witty, open, and polite, she'd be a delight for interviewers
everywhere, and a hit with everyone she came across. She'd be perfect.
And she'd be me.
The guys at special effects did their work magnificently, creating
something out of a material so cutting edge there were rumours it was
specially created just for the project. It was light, thin, and perfect.
No seams, no splits, no joints; imperfectly perfect, with blemishes,
moles, a couple of little scars. The material- or whatever it truly was-
was thin enough to breathe, porous enough to allow sweat and water
through, and comfortable enough to wear constantly. To be Viola, I had to
be Viola constantly; I had to be her all day, every day, until the stint
was over. The body they formed for me was one I didn't mind wearing,
either- pale, and slim, with breasts in a large C cup, just big enough to
seem large on the build, small enough to be manageable. Similarly, they'd
formed the ass to be curvy yet shapely, giving the body a gently sloping
hourglass shape- not severe, but not flat, either. Viola Bard's body was
wonderfully, mercifully, completely believable.
And so it was that I found myself at the airport, dressed in a light blue
dress, clutching a bag to my breasts, pulling a suitcase behind me,
heading to the life I'd be living for the next year and a half or so.
And I couldn't have been more excited.
Jayla
- 20.02.2020
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