It seems that serial characters (“Peanut Butter Betty,” “Rachel Ross,” etc.) are popular with WAM writers, and I am no exception. Here’s the first of a series I’ve done.
THE ADVENTURES OF KIM HARDAWAY, AMERICAN STOOGE
As she stood in the tiny cubicle, holding what barely constituted enough material to be called a bra to her breasts, Kim Hardaway reminded herself again just how much she needed this job. She’d been on the verge of losing her apartment when Miyori had approached her with this offer. She should be grateful. She glanced over her shoulder at the curtain that separated her from the film crew, and she could hear them muttering in that strange language. *Yeah, grateful,* she thought.
“You American, Miss?” Miyori had asked her as she’d waited for her train on the subway. “We need tall American to play in our movie.” Kim should have guessed right away what kind of part she was going to be asked to play. How many tall Caucasian heroes — especially female ones — were there likely to be in Japanese films? She’d been supposed to play basketball — that was something they wanted tall Americans for — to make her fortune and return to Minnesota to enjoy it, but after two games her coach had decided that Americans had “attitude problems” and fired her. What kind of coach fires his best player in some kind of dispute about wind sprints and bed checks? But there had gone her salary and her translator — and her guaranteed roundtrip ticket home — so Kim had smiled as sweetly as she could, tried not to mimic Miyori’s horrible accent, and said “Yes, I’m an American.”
The curtain parted and Kim jumped, nearly losing the unhooked bra that she held so desperately to her body. Being this unclothed made her feel vulnerable. Miyori’s small round face with its Dorothy Hammill haircut poked through. “Director-*san* wants me to check again that you make sure you know what to do. You know what going to happen?” Kim nodded ruefully, and Miyori smiled and vanished. *You know what going to happen?* she replayed in her mind. *Sure, but I have no idea what’s going on.* She wondered for the umpteenth time what the hell kind of movie this was. She hoped for the millionth time that it would never be shown in Mankato.
Somebody barked a comman from beyond the curtain. “Action, Miss Kim,” she heard Miyori say. Swallowing hard, she turned her back to the curtain. She fumbled with the bra so that she could hold it in place with one hand and reached behind her, tugging the thong of her panties deeper into the cleft between her butt cheeks. She looked over her shoulder ruefully at her exposed behind, and remembered how embarrassed she’d been when Miyori had powdered her cheeks down so that they wouldn’t glow in the studio lights. How was she going to feel in about ten seconds?
Those ten seconds passed by quickly. The curtain whooshed open and the hot lights warmed her bare back and ass. Something warm and bumpy banged into her butt, and she could feel a small nose burrowing into the crack of her ass, hot breath penetrating some very private places. She shrieked — as she’d been directed to — and turned around quickly, trying to ignore the cameras pointed at her, looking down. A small Japanese man looked up at her, less than half her size, a look of feigned surprise on his face. She raised a fist to hit him, almost lost the bra, fought desperately with the other hand to keep herself covered, and smacked the little actor across the face. It was just a studio slap — they’d practiced it several times — but it was loud and made her hand sting and from the way the little actor flung himself backward Kim worried that she’d really hurt him. She stepped out into the hotly lit set to find him, but saw Miyori instead, standing behind the cameraman making some kind of hideous face.
*Oh, right,* Kim remembered, and scrunched up her own face into what she hoped was anger. She ran toward the camera, hands clasped firmly over her breasts. The camera zoomed in on her belly. The director said something. Everyone stopped moving and began rearranging their equipment. Miyori pointed down a long plywood corridor set that ended in a t-stop with a camera at the end. Kim nodded and grimaced. *Remember how much you need this job.* The director screamed something again, and the actor Kim had hit ran down the hallway. Another midget followed him, screaming something. The director cried out another direction, and they came running back. Finally, only one little actor ran down the hall for the camera. Kim slowly began to understand that this would look like a long chase down a long hall on film.
Miyori clapped her hands again. Kim took off running down the hall, painfully aware that there was another camera behind her trained on her jiggling ass. She got to the corner of the t-stop and a tiny hand reached out and slapped a cream pie into her crotch. She stopped immediately, staring at the camera that was catching every frame of her reaction. Even knowing it was coming hadn’t prepared her for the surprise as the cold sticky pie soaked into the thin crotch of her panties. She glanced down at herself, and the camera dropped back to look, too. The silver tin slid down her thighs, leaving long thick white streaks. A rough circle of golden crust covered her pussy and was starting to drop off in little cookie-sized bits. The sticky filling was starting to ooze into the most intimate of places. She wanted to squirm, but wasn’t sure at which sensation. The face of the midget actor who’d thrown the pie beamed up at her, mock astonishment on his face.
“Mad, Miss Kim!” Miyori hissed. “Mad!” Kim tried to frown down at the actor and swiveled her hips like a belly dancer. She thrust her crotch into his face and the cream there enveloped his features. Droplets of the cream and bits of the crust stuck into his hair and flew behind him onto the camera crew. The camera behind her moved up to get it all. Then what was already a too-familiar sensation of a face pressing into her butt. She screamed and turned around; there was the second little actor, having run into her, looking shocked. She raised an arm to strike him, but he pushed out his hand into her stomach and she felt herself falling backward over the midget she’d just pussy-pied (was that a word? and if it was, would if forever be associated with Kim Hardaway of Mankato, Minnesota? Oh God) in the face. She fell backward, legs raised high just like they’d practiced in rehearsal. But in rehearsal she’d been dressed, and had cheated, had slipped an arm behind her to break her fall. This time she kept both hands firmly on the unhooked bra that threatened to flutter away. She hit the padded carpet hard but struggled to hold her position while the midgets ran away and the camera zoomed in. And what a position, flat on her back, clutching her hands over her breasts, with her long legs raised high and spread like a whore.
The cameras pulled back but were still running, so she got up and ran again down the hall. then she ran back toward the t-stop again. One of the little actors flung himself out in front of her and she tumbled over him awkwardly. He scurried out from under her just before she fell, and she lay spread-eagled on the ground for a moment so that the director could get his shot. Her face reddened as she followed her next instructions, raising herself up to her hands and knees — well, hand and knees, because she still desperately clung to the unhooked bra with one hand. The hot lights told her that the camera behind her was zooming in on her raised and exposed ass. She saw two feet step in front of her and raised herself up onto her knees. It was the first actor, the one she’d originally smacked in the dressing room set, come around the corner with an extra thick cream pie in his hand. He was grinning wickedly up at her, for even on her knees she was taller than he.
But he could still reach her. He took aim and smashed the pie into her face. Kim had only time enough to take a deep breath and close her eyes before the world disappeared in a thick white envelope of cream. She felt a tug at her now-heavy face, and heard the tin clang onto the floor. Despite the cooling cream on her face, she felt hot. She took a deep breath and raised both her hands to clear her eyes. The bra she’d so carefully protected throughout this scene fluttered whispily to the floor, and the hot lights from the camera warmed her now bare breasts.
Kim sat at the back of the screening room to view the rushes the next day, not sure whether she wanted something to have gone wrong to they had to do it again or everything to have gone right and just get paid and be done with it. The little actors, the comedy team that was the star of the movie, were on screen now, getting into a fight in a department store. One chased the other into the women’s dressing room — the editing on this was remarkable, Kim had to admit — and into a changing stall.
She gasped aloud. In the stall was a blonde, voluptuous, long-legged Amazon who sort of looked like Kim Hardaway. She was almost naked, but her butt wasn’t flabby and her thighs weren’t all out of proportion. The midget ran into her and she turned around and slapped him. He fell out of the stall into the second midget, and the two began hitting one another Three Stooges-style, until one finally chased the other down the hall. The woman who looked like Kim Hardaway ran out of the stall after them, holding her bra tight to her bosom.
The midgets chased each other around some hallways for a while until one stumbled into a restaurant. He saw a plate with two pies on it and he grabbed one. He hefted it happily and waited behind the corner for the other little actor to come by, and when he heard footsteps he slapped it into where the other’s face should have been. In the screening room, Kim laughed aloud at her shocked expression as her film-self looked down at her cream-covered crotch and crusty, white-blotched thighs. She noted again that she didn’t look the way she thought she did, that the curve of her stomach was not as pronounced as she thought it was. The whole room exploded with laughter when she ground her cream-covered crotch into the actor’s face, surely the most innovative pie-in-the-face in film history. Kim covered her face with one hand, but was grinning even as she blushed. It *was* funny — *she* was funny — and she kind of liked the way her ass looked as she ran after the now messy-faced little actor. She remembered suiting up for her first basketball game and being so self-conscious of the length of her shorts. She’d always been a big girl with a big ass, but on film that didn’t look as bad as she thought it would.
And she was doing a good job in this thing, she had to admit. When the two actors teamed up to bring her down to their level, she made the pratfall look hilarious, nearly six feet of arms and legs and boobs and butt. And the camera played over her body lovingly after the fall. Spread-eagled on the ground, her arms stretched out at her sides, her breasts smashed beneath her and her butt all exposed by the thong, she looked silly and sexy at the same time.
Kim found herself holding her breath as she watched herself crawl up onto her knees. She knew what was going to happen, but the suspense of waiting for it had her heart racing in her chest. She covered her face with one hand but took the opportunity to glance at the others in the room. Everyone was watching the screen, holding their breaths, waiting for this gorgeous woman on the screen to get what they knew was coming to her.
Kim laughed out loud when the pie hit her in the face. She laughed even louder when she watched herself wipe the thick filling off and the bra fall to the ground. Everyone else laughed, too, and they began to applaud as the lights came on and the film finished. Kim couldn’t move immediately. The sight of herself, bare-breasted, face engulfed in goo, burned itself into her memory. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding, and she was feeling a very welcome, warm tingling between her legs. She clutched the check that would pay this month’s rent tighter in her hand and played the scene over and over again in her mind.
“Miss Kim, you alright?” Miyori asked, as the cast and crew worked their way out of the screening room. Kim crossed her legs tightly and moistened her lips with her tongue. “I’m fine,” she said, and meant it. “Listen, if, uh, if this kind of work comes up again, give me a call. Okay?”
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