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Rated: XGC · Short Story · Comedy · #2256563
A movie producer & his friends at a party bully an actor stereotyped to play Quasimojo.
"You may not know this, but I can read lips."

It was a skill Sid had learned growing up with a deaf sister and was not something that was well known, after all, he didn't want people talking with their hands over their mouths, especially those who may be talking about him.

Sid is a producer/director of porn movies, and occasionally uses this skill as a party trick...and also in his professional life, to get a handle on people who might not have Sid's best interests at heart. Tonight's party is being thrown by Sid, to celebrate the launch of his new movie, 'Sir Come to the Lure of Flesh', an arty kink fest of bondage, rubber and watersports.

A who's who in the industry is in attendance, porn stars and their entourage...hangers-on and their dealers, to an exclusive, invitation-only event...and anyone the door lets in or who sneak in through the back door...the irony of which does not escape Sid, as he leaves his adoring ass kissers and heads to the bathroom to powder his nose.

After he is done converting his persona from jaded control freak to give a fuck egomaniac, the enigmatic attitude that precedes him struts from the bathroom...importance in the air all around him...only it wasn't importance, just the lingering odours from the stall toilet seat he had just snorted his lines of blow from. Now, while heading to the bar, he encounters a group of young wannabe porn actors and starlets, doing their fake little routine of fake kisses on fake cheeks, grabbing fake asses and fake tits, along with fake, "We must go for lunch."

Sid didn't buy into this side of the industry, preferring to keep the company of those he had known longer than the three minutes all these people had known each other, looking at the group and trying not to snarl his welcome.

So, when these backstabbing, two-faced and incredibly beautiful people who Sid loves very much, are whispering in their little clicky groups...people he knows love him...even more than he does, at least he knows whose backs the knives are protruding from. The truth of the matter is, Sid doesn't love them one little bit, even if tonight, his lip-reading skills tell him they are speaking very kindly about him, although they are calling some guy, an actor Sid sometimes uses, an apathetic, ass licking, SOB, weak, pussy, motherfucker.

Sid thinks to himself, "If they think he's that, then I do too...no matter who he thinks he is or would like to be...as if he has any talent at all...any drive, other than to Krispy Cream or to an operation to remove that hump from his back...so he doesn't continue to get stereotyped into black and white horror porn that depicts his character, Quasimojo, as a freak...yet this ugly monster, in the end, still gets the beautiful girl."

The script for Quasimojo, a movie Sid did not produce, calls for him to carry her up and into the bell tower, where his deformed head plots a sure-fire way to protect her from the evil villagers...by raping her...knowing this was the only way, as then, no villager, no matter how ugly or desperate they are, would put their dicks in her mouth, let alone inside that hideous, come filled flange...which had been declared a wholly...or unholy contaminated vagina, by way of being pumped full of humpback semen...but rest assured, during their thirty seconds of passionate rape-making, Quasimojo was having a whale of a time.

Later, the clean-up crew on set remarked on the amount of Quasi spunk he ejaculated into her now ruined genitalia and came to the conclusion that because his character doesn't see much action, and his short stumpy fingers struggle to relieve himself, the build-up over years of trying to masturbate, but every time he is about to blow, the bells would ring and his hands would automatically go to his ears, instead of finishing the job at hand, was responsible for the huge mess they were now having to deal with.

Then, at the end of the scene, as the characters lay in the blissful afterglow of post-traumatic stress disorders, the happy love birds live not very happily ever after...until the abortion and divorce are finalised, and they can get on with their lives, hating one another as normal people do.
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