Mockumentary
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Mockumentary Epilogue: Rough Cuts free porn video
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Okay, fair warning before you read this, since it's a LOT darker in
tone than what's come so far.
I wrote this while I was still writing the main story. Although the
heart of the tale was about Tristan dealing with his bad decisions
stemming from his desperate desire to be famous, Felicity provided the
dark undercurrent running throughout the story that often drove the
action. But unfortunately, the documentary format made her actions more
detached, softening the hard edges and hiding them from view.
So, as I wrote the story, I found that I really wanted to examine her
raw, unfiltered personality so I could understand her better and
examine exactly how manipulative, scheming, unbalanced, and evil she
was. (It turns out the answer is: "very.") I then filtered it for the
main story. So my curiosity about the character means that you get an
extra chapter!
Also, while I liked the story as it was, I couldn't shake the idea that
if Graham had made his documentary as you saw it, there would be one
inevitable outcome, which you'll see here.
I admit the content here does undercut the main story somewhat, so if
that bothers you, consider this an "alternate ending." :-)
MOCKUMENTARY EPILOGUE: ROUGH CUTS
by Jenny North
Graham Kelly stormed out of his office into the parking lot, yelling on
his phone. "Of course I saw it! Where the hell do they get off making
cuts like that?" He listened for a moment. "It's not about the amount
of time that got cut, it's the content! If you cut off the ending, it
completely changes the entire context of the movie! The ending is
what--"
He crossed the lot, making for his car. "Look, I'm telling you, it
sells the movie. If you end it where you've got it now, it's not
upbeat, it's just more Hollywood drivel. This is edgy."
Graham looked at where his car was parked. The idiot in the space next
to him parked his van so close to his car he'd have to squeeze by
sideways to get in. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered as he sidled up
to the door. Then, on the phone adding, "Look, can't we at least show
both versions to some test audien--"
Suddenly, the side door of the van opened up behind Graham and strong
hands grabbed him from behind. Before he could react, he smelled an
acrid odor of something being pressed against his face and he blacked
out.
* * * * *
When Graham was little and he'd get sick with a fever, he'd sometimes
have a recurring nightmare. It was fuzzy and vague on the details and
he could never remember it exactly, but it was dark and threatening.
Something about running from a monster and getting tangled up and
struggling helplessly. He always woke up sweating and it terrified his
young mind. As an adult he never had that nightmare though, maybe
because he knew there were no such things as monsters.
Now, he felt like he was having that same dream again and it terrified
him. He felt hands all over him, sometimes hot and sweaty, other times
clammy. Things were in his hands, in his hair, in his mouth, writhing
like snakes. He tried to struggle but the monster was too strong. Then
he felt a sharp pain in his backside, and blackness took him again.
* * * * *
When consciousness returned, Graham awoke slowly, feeling hung over. He
could tell he was laying in a bed, but he felt strange. His body ached
and there was a horrible taste in his mouth and it was all he could do
to open his bleary eyes.
The first thing he noticed was all the pink. It was everywhere...pink
sheets, pink walls...and right on the ceiling above him there was...a
girl? He tried to orient himself, realizing that didn't make sense. But
as his vision started to clear he realized his eyes weren't playing
tricks. Sure enough, there was a girl of maybe six years old in a pink
party dress with her long brown hair tied up in two big pony tails, and
she was laying on the ceiling. But as he focused on her, something else
seemed wrong. She had two prominent breasts, and she was heavily made
up. She wasn't a little girl, she was a woman dressed as a little girl.
Then he blinked heavily and looked again more closely.
At the mirror on the ceiling. At his reflection.
"Holy shit!"
Graham tried to jump up, but his throbbing head made short work of that
idea. As fell back onto the bed and nursed his splitting headache, he
took the opportunity to take slowly stock of himself. Sure enough,
someone had dressed him up in this facsimile of a little girl's dress.
And they'd done a number on him...it wasn't just the dress and the wig
but he had elaborate makeup, painted nails, even garish earrings and
jewelry. Dumbly through the retreating fog in his brain he admired his
long silky legs sticking out from under the hem of the short pink
dress, ending in some decidedly un-girlish sexy stiletto heels. He had
to admit, it made for a very provocative outfit.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to pull this prank on him.
He looked down at the swell of his voluptuous breasts, touching them
lightly with his hand and feeling the soft falsies inside. But as he
tried to bring up his other hand, it stopped short. Someone had
handcuffed him to the bed.
"Fuck," he groaned, slowly pulling himself to a sitting position. As he
did, he felt the silky petticoats of the dress brush softly against his
newly-shaved legs. He tugged experimentally at the very secure
handcuffs and looked around the room. As he noticed before, it was
shockingly pink. It was decorated like a little girl's room complete
with toys and a dollhouse, and dressed as he was he realized he
probably didn't look all that out of place. His first thought was that
he was in somebody's home until he turned his head and saw the camera
on the tripod, the lights...he was on a movie set. Then his eyes
focused on the table next to the camera...it was covered with a number
of sex toys, many of them also in pink.
The haunting realization that he was handcuffed to a bed in a porno
studio was just settling in when he shifted his weight and he felt a
sharp pain in his anus. "Aaah!" he cried out. He delicately reached
under his froth of skirts to touch the affected area and winced in pain
as he got close. Just then he caught another humiliating reflection of
himself in a mirror near the bed. He was about to turn in shame from
his gaily-dressed reflection when he noticed something in one of his
oversize ponytails that were dancing playfully about his face. It
glistened in the light. At first he thought it was a trick of the
lighting from his big sparkly earrings that were swinging back and
forth, but as he reached up to the hair to touch whatever it was, his
fingers felt something cold, and gooey...
In a flash, he remembered his dream with the fleshy snakes fighting to
get into his mouth and he suddenly realized what the taste in his mouth
was.
"Oh God, oh God!" he cried, pulling his hand back suddenly, and wincing
again at the pain of his tortured asshole. As he looked down he was
again faced with the two bulging breasts pushing out the front of his
juvenile dress, but this time as he examined his chest he also saw the
unmistakable stains of cum in the pattern of the garment. He squeezed
his eyes shut, but he couldn't blot out the sensations...the sweet
scent of perfume, the soft skirts around his legs, the caress of his
pony tails brushing against his shoulders, the tug of the heavy
earrings on his ears, even the feeling of his fake breasts heaving in
his brassiere in response to his labored breathing. And that awful,
awful taste in his mouth.
He tried to yank the wig off and got another sharp stabbing pain for
his trouble. He didn't know if it'd been held on with hairpins or glue
or what, but it was stuck fast. Ditto for the big glittering earrings
tugging at his ears. Whatever they'd done to him would take a while to
undo. And just who the hell were "they," anyway? What the fuck had he
done to deserve all this? He made documentaries for crying out loud!
Was this just some random abduction?
As if in response to his thoughts, he could hear the studio door open
and the sound of footsteps coming closer. For a moment he wondered if
he should pretend to be asleep and try and surprise his abductors, but
while he debated this he heard the clicking of a woman's high heels
right outside.
Graham looked up, and Felicity Manchester entered the playset.
He looked at her in shock. "Felicity? What's the hell is going on? What
am I doing here?!?"
She glanced around the room and looked at him. "Well, I'm no expert,
but it looks to me like you're a grown man dressed like a little girl
and you just shot a gang bang video," she responded. "Which I'm
guessing may help explain any lingering tingling sensations you might
be feeling around your anus."
Graham gingerly adjusted his seating, feeling a great deal more
discomfort than a "lingering tingling sensation." He watched as she
pulled over a small chair and sat down across from him, just out of his
reach. "Why am I here?" he demanded.
She let out a little giggle and practically squirmed in delight. "Okay,
seriously, I just LOVE that you're trying to act all bossy and macho
when it looks like you should be pouting to mommy for your Betsy Wetsy
doll." He stared daggers at her, but she just smirked at him.
"But in answer to your question, the reason we're both here is to
finish our interview," she replied. "After I had time to reflect on it,
I realized I'd been less than candid in some of my answers and you
deserved to know the truth."
"So you were behind Tristan's changes all along," Graham said.
"Yep, pretty much."
"You turned him into a woman."
"Well, no," she corrected. "He still has his penis. Although by now
it's probably shriveled up like a raisin from all the female hormones."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, it's more fun for him to have it as a
reminder. Y'know, trapped between genders. Less than a man, less than a
woman, that sort of thing."
"No, I mean, why all of it? Maybe Tristan was a jackass, but how could
ANYTHING he did possibly justify spending the last fifteen years
systematically ruining his life?"
"Oh, that," she smiled. "Just for fun, I guess."
Despite the weirdness of the situation, Graham found himself getting
drawn in. "Just for FUN?" he echoed.
"Well, in my defense, he did say and do some very unkind things," she
countered. "But really that's only a small part of it."
She stood up and picked up a pair of Barbie dolls from a shelf. "Do you
know when I was little, I just loved playing with dolls? They were all
plastic and glamorous, and with so many precious little accessories and
pretty little outfits. I could play with them for hours. But you know
the best part?" she asked rhetorically. "I could make them do
absolutely ANYTHING I wanted." As she moved aside, Graham saw that
she'd put one Barbie on the little doll's bed with its skirt pulled up
and legs splayed into a "V" while the other doll had its face buried in
the first doll's crotch.
"I always liked playing make believe...that's probably why I got into
acting," she told him. "Though Galaxy Crusaders was an eye-opener for
me. Suddenly I was mincing around the set in my skimpy outfits, being
told what to say, what to wear, what to do, and how to do it. I
realized that I'd become like one of the little plastic dolls I used to
play with." She looked at him darkly. "I didn't care for that very
much."
"So now you're getting your revenge?" Graham asked. He tried to seem
commanding, but the sway of his two big ponytails and his glittering
earrings undercut that somewhat.
"God, I love the way you men think, you're so linear," Felicity
marveled. "Men treated me like a doll, so now I want to be the one in
control. Tristan called me a whore, so I want him to be a whore. It's
so simple."
She paused to consider that for a moment. "Huh. Well, okay, that
actually IS pretty much how it started," she admitted. "But these days
it's just more fun to fuck with him."
She sat back down in the chair. "Yes, he wronged me. And that first
time as a teenager seeing him sashaying around the set was like seeing
a Ken doll modeling Barbie's clothes. Watching God's gift to women
wiggling along in his stiletto heels was poetic justice," she said.
"But you know, I forgave and forgot. Hell, I even dated him for a
while...guess that shows MY taste in men," she conceded. "Of course, I
probably would have forgotten all about it if not for that stupid
Halloween costume."
"When you dressed him up like Wonder Woman," Graham said.
"It was just supposed to be a joke!" she began. "But that stupid jerk
had to go and ruin it."
"What did he do?" Graham asked warily. He discreetly tugged at the
handcuffs when she wasn't looking. He just needed to keep her talking
and look for some kind of opening...
"Well, you saw how good he looked! I figured I'd sexy him up, some guys
would hit on him and then he'd get embarrassed and I'd get a big laugh
out of it. But the next thing you know, he slips away and he's feeling
up some busty tarted-up fangirl not fifty feet away from me!"
"That's rough."
"Gosh, thanks," she sneered. "You may as well stop fooling with the
handcuffs by the way, you're not getting out."
He sighed and rested his hands on the soft layers of his skirt. "That's
when you guys broke up," he recalled. "I guess that's also when you
started feeding him the female hormones?"
"Yeah, which was not at all easy, by the way. But I figured that might
curb his randy nature for the next girl. And I figured if he ended up
growing a nice set of tits, that'd be pretty awesome, too," she said.
"Which it was." She smiled at the memory. "By the time he knowingly
started on the hormones he was already well on his way. It helped speed
things along."
Graham nodded slowly. "So all those months later when Tristan was going
to be fired you saw your opportunity and pitched the mockumentary to
Barbara. You bankrolled the filming anonymously and then when Tristan
needed it to prove his story you withheld the footage. But how did you
get Barbara and Max on board? They just ditched Tristan in his moment
of need. Did you have something on them? What could you possibly have
offered them?"
"Money."
That caught Graham off guard. "That's it? They did all that to him and
then sold him out for money?"
"It was a little more than thirty pieces of silver, but a lot less than
you might imagine," Felicity said. "Come on, you met them. They'd been
living large off of Tristan's money train for years and they knew it
was about to come crashing to a halt. I was doing them a favor. The
really hilarious thing was that for a while I think they ACTUALLY
believed that stupid plan could really work! Seeing their hopes get
crushed was kind of a bonus, but having them live with knowing what
they did is some consolation."
"But how did you control Jackson? That was the one connection I
couldn't figure out."
"I didn't," she admitted. "He was a horny misogynistic jackass who I
knew wouldn't be put off by a she-male if she was pretty enough. It was
actually kind of fun seeing him dream up new ways to torment Tristan.
God, that man had a great imagination. I mean seriously, the breast and
buttock enhancements were a masterstroke. When Barbara told me how
Tristan practically had to beg the doctor for big tits and a fat ass
right in front of her, I practically creamed my panties. And that
hooker dress he gave Tristan to wear to the Emmys? I was in awe.
Seriously, I nearly wore out the rewind button on my video recorder
watching that footage over and over."
At the mention of Jackson, something occurred to him. "Jackson's
overdose...did you have anything to do with that?"
Felicity blinked in surprise. "Really? You think that? Wow, I feel like
such the criminal mastermind," she said, flattered. "But no, I can't
take credit. He came to that sad, albeit predictable end all on his
own. It's unfortunate, really...it might have been fun to 'collaborate'
with him again."
Graham adjusted his seat, startled to feel the soft petticoats brush
against his shaved legs. He'd been so engrossed in Felicity's
confession that he'd almost forgotten how much danger he was in.
Almost. He knew he needed to get her off balance, maybe get her to make
a mistake.
"But not everything went according to plan," he said.
Felicity sat back, obviously annoyed. "That's putting it mildly," she
snapped. "I get the sex tape recorded, I release it at the most
inopportune time, I cut off all of his support, his money...hell, he
even came begging to me to corroborate his story to the press after he
realized he couldn't get the film footage. He blew up at me and I had
the pleasure of literally slamming the door in his pretty little face.
I almost giggled on the other side of the door," she gloated. "But can
you appreciate this situation? He's practically homeless, no friends,
no prospects, trapped in a tranny bimbo's body AND thanks to Jackson's
tutoring he knows how to pleasure a man. And then, just as he's about
to turn his first trick, the very MOMENT before he breaks down and
commits to his new life as a busty cocksucking she-male hooker, he
BACKS OUT and decides he's going to clean up his life! Un-fucking-
real!"
"And he credited you for doing it." Jackson knew the barb hit home and
he waited for Felicity to explode in emotion, hoping she'd move close
enough that he could grab her, maybe overpower her. Somehow get out and
get help.
But she didn't take the bait.
An eerie calm fell over Felicity and she looked him directly in the
eyes. "You'd asked me if I was frustrated that Tristan didn't become a
hooker," she told him. "Well, the answer is no," she declared simply.
"No, because 'frustrated' is when I chip a nail and ruin a $200
manicure. This was months of foreplay building up to orgasmic FUCKING
denial!" She stood up angrily, still well out of Graham's reach, as she
continued.
"I had a whole carnival of humiliations on tap for Tristan, did you
know that? I wanted him to work as a street hooker just long enough to
make sure he was broken. Then I'd arrange an opportunity for him to be
a stripper, maybe also moonlighting as a call girl because I knew some
of his former 'friends' would relish the opportunity to see him shake
his tits for them, give them a nice lap dance, and then suck their
dicks. After that of course I'd nudge him into doing porn, where he'd
finally get a chance to be the big movie star he always dreamed of
being.
"God, it would have been beautiful," she mused.
"But," she added, "life goes on. Tristan rebuilt his little life, and
sometimes I'd even discreetly feed him some work that amused me." She
laughed, "Do you know, I'm the one that arranged for 'My Uncle Fifi' to
get a green light? I'm embarrassed that dreck ever saw the light of
day, but it was SO worth it to see Tristan stuffing his boobs into a
French maid's uniform."
Felicity leaned in and put her hands on the back of her chair as she
looked at Graham. "So yes, it does give me tremendous pleasure to tune
in every week and watch Tristan debase himself," she admitted.
"But now that he's got a little happiness in his life I thought it
would have been fun to release the footage, and hire a documentary
maker who could reopen some old wounds and show him as the sad little
vanity-obsessed bimbo I know and love," she said. "But then SOMEBODY
thought it might be fun to go all Scooby Gang on me and do the big
reveal at the end portraying me as the villainess of the piece." She
regarded him sitting there helplessly in his darling pink frock and
high heels. "NOT the brightest idea in the world," she told him.
"Still, as one of the silent partners on the film it was easy enough to
get them to trim out the last few minutes and just end the film on the
teary-eyed reconciliation. You know, the big happy Hollywood ending we
talked about. I think people will like that better, don't you?"
Then, she added, "Oh, and in answer to your unspoken question: no, I'm
not stupid enough to come over there so you can wrestle me into
submission or whatever ill-considered escape attempt you're concocting
under those precious pigtails. Although I'm tempted to let you try just
to see you do it in that outfit."
Graham sighed in resignation. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Well, first, let's assume that I'm not a complete idiot. I'd
appreciate that. And second, let's also assume that I've seen a James
Bond movie so I know the perils of telling you my evil plan. So...what
do you think that leaves us with?"
"Look, all that stuff you just told me, it's not like I could prove any
of it anyway, so you may as well just let me go."
"Ok, yes to the first part, no to the second. Good effort, though. What
else you got?"
He knew the most obvious answer. "You're telling me all this because
you know I can't do anything with it."
"Ooh, you're so close! So that means...?"
He let out a tremulous sigh. "You're going to kill me."
"You...what?" Felicity looked wounded. "Okay, that just hurts my
feelings. Seriously? I just...WOW." She sat back down in the chair,
dumbfounded. "I'm not going to KILL you. I mean, geez."
She gave him a reassuring smile and continued. "Okay, here's what's
going on. Right now an officer friend of mine in the narcotics division
is going through your home based on an anonymous tip he got. They'll
find some drugs--don't worry, not enough for any serious jail time,
although you're going to want a good lawyer. Of course while they're
looking around they'll come across a poorly-hidden stash of tranny porn
and a number of sissy little outfits much like the one you're wearing,
you naughty little minx," she said mockingly.
"Of course, the real find will be on your hard drive where they'll find
an impressive archive of tranny porn--see the pattern starting to
emerge here?--and a large encrypted folder chock full of child
pornography." She paused to let that sink in. "I'm told that it's a
tough encryption to crack, but if a concerned citizen were to tell them
the password I bet it'd speed things along."
"Nobody is going to believe that," Graham said, trying to sound more
certain than he felt.
"You think? People are already wondering why you'd bother making a
movie that was practically a love letter to some has-been she-male
actor who torpedoed his career after a sex scandal. Once they get a
load of you, you're going to look like the biggest tranny fangirl
ever."
"Fangirl...?" he puzzled. Then he looked back down at himself, wearing
the sissy little dress. "Oh, God..."
"THERE it is!" Felicity beamed. "I knew you'd recognize it eventually.
Yep, this is the same dress that Tristan wore when he did that magazine
photo shoot. As a fellow filmmaker I thought you'd appreciate the
symmetry. It went up on eBay a few weeks ago and I guess now we all
know who the highest bidder was!"
She reached into her bag and pulled out a tablet computer and started
tapping away. "Now, please don't take this the wrong way, but if I'm
being honest I'd have to say that Tristan wore it better than you. But
don't worry, you're still a very lovely little lady! And frankly you
were WAY more enthusiastic than Tristan was when you were playing in
your pretty new dress."
She flipped the tablet around, showing a video of Graham in his little
girl's dress there in the porno studio getting fucked by three guys. "I
admit your performance wasn't A-list material since you were kind of
druggy, but you had a natural beauty and enthusiasm that should still
make this very popular. Ooh, see this bit here? When you're struggling?
I swear it looks like you're really getting into it when you're going
down on that guy. But look who I'm talking to! You know better than
most people that the most creative work takes place in the editing
room. You're going to look like a star when we're through!"
He didn't say anything, his bravado replaced by growing fear. "Aww, but
look at me, here I am giving you notes," she teased. "I'm sure you'll
get better with practice."
That got his attention. "What? You're blackmailing me with this video?"
"No, stupid," she replied, exasperated. "That's what the child
pornography is for. By now they've impounded your computer," she said,
checking her watch. "So one little anonymous email from me with the
password and they'll lock you up...and in prison I GUARANTEE you'll
find out what it feels like to be a girl," she warned. "No, this porno
video is to discredit you. In fact, I put a nice little demo reel of
your sissy escapade online an hour ago."
"WHAT?" he gasped.
"Oh, relax, people will understand if it's a rough cut. Honestly, you
filmmakers and your 'artistic vision,'" she said. "Oh, and by the way,
you should really have better passwords on your computer, I hear they
took no time at all to crack. Because I understand that 30 minutes ago
you 'accidentally' tweeted a link to this cinematic masterpiece to the
world. Of course you deleted the tweet fifteen minutes later,
but...oops, butterfingers."
He was hyperventilating. "You...you..."
"Oh, don't get your ruffled panties in a bunch. I'm sure only a few
thousand people saw it. So far." she teased. "And besides, you were
performing under your stage name of--" She looked down at the tablet.
"--'Miss Trysting Slutfairy.' Aww, that's sweet, I'm sure Tristan will
be flattered."
She tucked the tablet back into her bag and grinned at him. "See,
THAT'S why I told you all this stuff. I mean, Tristan is fun to
manipulate behind the scenes, but I WANT you to know what I can do to
you. It'll be so much more fun this way, because from now on, you are
my new dolly."
Felicity called over her shoulder, "Boys? The young miss is ready to go
now." A moment later, two big muscular guys entered. One grabbed Graham
firmly by the arms while the other removed the handcuffs.
"What are you going to do to me?" Graham asked, terrified.
"Hmm?" Felicity responded, checking her makeup in a small mirror. "Oh,
nothing. They're just going to give you a ride home. You're free to
go." She gave him a wicked smile. "For now."
They started to drag him out and Graham exclaimed, "Wait! Where are my
clothes?"
Felicity looked puzzled. "Those are your clothes. Big eBay winner,
remember? I swear I covered this. Though I think it's cute that you
couldn't wait to try them on."
"But you said the police were at my house! I can't go home like this!"
he cried.
"Oh, FINE," Felicity relented. "Honestly, it's lucky for you I'm in
such a good mood." She turned to the two goons. "Boys, drop Miss
Slutfairy off at her office, please."
Graham turned white. He was gasping in fear, his protruding bosom
heaving in a panic and his big ponytails and earrings swaying as he
shook his head in terror. "No, please..."
"Don't worry, you might even beat the police there," Felicity said
reassuringly. "And if you do, maybe you can try and elude them. I'm
imagining it as kind of a transvestite pageant princess version of The
Fugitive," she teased. "But hey, if they do catch you, at least you'll
have one of the more entertaining mug shots in recent memory."
She watched as the two hulking men dragged the struggling Graham away,
his hair and petticoats bouncing around gaily as he fought
ineffectually against their grasp. "Don't be too rough with her, boys!"
she called after them. "I've got lots of fun plans for my new doll."
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