THE ADVENTURES OF KIM HARDAWAY, AMERICAN STOOGE #2 by Reynolds A stagehand stopped and gave her a long lustful glance. He had a grin on his face and clearly meant nothing insulting by it, so Kim Hardaway just laughed at him. He laughed back and flashed her a quick "OK" sign with the fingers of one hand, then moved on to set up more props. Kim was still grinning after he'd walked by. There had been a time when she wouldn't have been caught dead in a clingy knit dress -- to many images of lumpy Bulgarian peasant women came to mind -- let alone a mini that barely reached halfway down her thighs. Six-foot athlete with big butts, heavy thighs, no waist and no boobs -- and that had always been how she'd pictured herself -- shouldn't wear those kinds of things. Here in Japan, of all places, that self-image had begun to change. Miyori walked by with the script on a clipboard in her hand. She looked down at Kim's long exposed legs and whistled appreciatively. "Men going to come back to see this movie twice, Miss Kim," said the film student who'd gotten her involved in this silly business. Kim's grin broadened, if that was possible, and she remembered that first meeting with Miyori while they both had been waiting for the subway. "You American, Miss?" Miyori had asked her. "We need tall American to play in our movie." *To be humiliated in your movie* had been what she really meant, as Kim had found out in her debut scene in some fifth-rate comedy, a scene in which she'd received cream pies in her face and in her crotch, and then been asked to lose her top and expose her chest to the cameras. But Kim had been in no position to refuse; the basketball contract that had brought her to Japan had been canceled, and she was desperately in need of money. And an odd thing had happened as she'd prepared for that short scene -- it had given her a thrill. None of the boys back in Minnesota had been all that interested in her breasts -- they weren't small, but on a big athletic girl with a broad well-muscled back even large tits didn't seem like -- well, like Terri Sanderson's had seemed, Kim thought, remembering the most popular girl in high school, the girl she'd desperately liked to have been. Here, her new friends in the movie business were so interester in her tits that they'd designed a whole scene around expoising them. And another odd thing had happened as she'd filmed the scene, and especially as she'd watched it on screen the next day. Not only had the camera confirmed to her what the appreciative glances of the stagehands had told her, that she was indeed not the clumsy, horsey gal she'd always imagined herself to be, but it had also shown somebody with a real flair for being funny. *And* there had been something about the feel of the cool sticky whipped cream on her face and between her legs that touched all the right erogenous zones of her brain. One of her boyfriends in college had become obsessed with the idea of covering her with Kool Whip and licking her clean; she'd finally let him, more for the possibility of all the *wonderful* nooks and crannies that his tongue would have to explore than for the sensation of being covered in sugary cream, but now as she remembered it there had been something about that feeling ... Kim read over Miyori's bad English translation of the script eagerly. It was as the Japanese girl had explained to her the night before; Kim was to be window dressing again, a pretty prop for another comedy film. Wardrobe had purchased this beautiful, black, longsleeved minidress for her, though, which clung to every curve of her body luxuriously even if it did barely cover her butt. The studio had even had gorgeous silk stockings specially made to fit her legs, which were probably longer than any woman's in the country. The stocking tops didn't quite meet the hemline of her dress, but this only added to Kim's feeling of excitement. So did what was going to happen to her in the upcoming scene, which promised to be very messy and -- if she did her job -- very funny. The claxton sounded for quiet on the set, which was supposed to be a discotheque or nightclub of some kind. "Places, Miss Kim?" Miyori whispered. "Think Sharon Stone!" And she scurried off. *Think Sharon Stone*, Kim thought to herself as she sauntered over to the bar set and stepped on her mark. *Not something I would have been told about myself back home*. She kept her feet, in their black pumps, firmly on the groun and bent her long frame over the top of the bar, restingherself gently on one elbow. She felt the pull in her hamstrings and calves that told her she had fully extended herself, and she felt the knit skirt of her minidress tighten across her butt. The actor playing the bartender handed her a long cigarette. *Not someone I would have been back home, either*, she thought. Kim held her position while the camera came near and panned down her body. She held it still as the camera dollied back and the cameraman changed lenses. She felt the bartender tense and she knew that the prop man had assembled his various missiles behind her. She tried not to tense up herself in anticipation of what was going to happen. Something heavy, wet and sticky slammed into her ass, almost knocking her off balance and into the bar. A sticky dampness began to seep through the thin material of her skirt and globs of cool cream found their way onto her thighs between her stocking tops and her high hemline. She counted the appropriate beat, straightened herself up to her full height, and whirled around. The prop man's aim was perfect; his second pie caught her directly in the sternum and exlpoded in a creamy mess all over her chest. It made her catch her breath for a beat, but then, as instructed, she looked down at herself and raised her hands to wipe off the cream and filling that was staining her black dress. She ran her hands slowly oer the curve of her breasts, cupping them in her palms, feeling her nipples harden as the gooey fabric constricted around them. She warmed inwardly as she also felt a corresponding tingling between her legs. The prop man took aim again, and as he let fire Kim dove out of the way. She head the delightful sound of someone else being hi with a pie for a change, and glanced up to see the bartender wiping filling from his face. The actor came around the bar and stood beside her, as did several other actos who were portraying bar patrons. The bartender said something in Japanese, pointed off the set, and the other actors began walking in that direction. Kim went with them, trying to look like she understood what the hell was going on around her. Off the set there was more "hurry up and waiting." Kim was beginning to get used to this; when you watch a movie all the action looks like it happens so fast, but when you make a movie you found that there was actually more standing around than anything else. That was the case now, as Kim and the others were told that "the props were not placed for the next scene yet." It didn't seem to make a difference to anyone that Kim was standing around in an expensive black dress with whipped cream slowly dissolving through the fabric onto her tits and her ass. Under the hot lights, the sticky white cream was liquifying, and that in turn was pulling the bodice of her dress tighter and tighter around her breasts. She could also feel the now lukewarm cream on her bare butt, dribbling over the curve of her ass and running with goosebump-raising interest down her legs. When it was finally time to resume filming, Kim discovered to her surprise that she was horny as hell. Miyori didn't help matters at all. When Kim took her place on the finally completed kitchen set, the Japanese girl walked toward her holding a thickly frosted cream pie in each hand. "Continuity," Miyori explained. "Must make you rook rike you did when last shot taken." Kim nodded absently and waited, but Miyori gestured impatiently for her to turn around. Kim finally realized what the problem was -- the pie on her butt had so seeped into her clothes that it didn't look the same as it had the last time the cameras were running. With the whole crew watching, Kim slowly turned around and bent at the waist, resting her hands on her knees and thrusting her round ass out. Miyori took her time -- Kim had to hold the slightly awkward position longer than she had expected to -- and she found to her surprise that the anticipation was driving her crazy! She wiggled her ass impatiently, and was rewarded by a gratifying "plop!" and the feel of heavy, sticky filling on her butt. She stood quickly and turned around, thrusting her chest out for MIyori to pie, not really thinking about what it must look like to onlookers. She was rewarded with a perfect shot to the tits, which she gratefully smeared all over her black dress with her hands, kneading and cupping her breasts as she did so. The assistant director gathered Kim and the rest of the cast in their re-applied mess together to go over the blocking one last time. They walked through their paces and then got ready to do it for real. The set was a kitchen, with a long narrow table loaded with mult-colored pies and a many-tiered, thickly iced white cake at the far end of it. The crowd from the bar stood in the doorway as if they had just entered and waited their cue. The prop man, with an ample supply of pies on a tray by his side, took aim. At the call of "action" he threw one, and as choreographed both the actor playing the baretender and kim ducked, and a third extra behind her was splattered. Several other cast members were hit before the camera dollied in for her close-up. It was to be a difficult set of shots -- after several experiences working hard to *be* hit by a thrown pie, Kim and the prop man had to get their timing down so that she would just *miss* being hit. There were only supposed to be three pies thrown, but it took eight to get the shots the director wanted, Kim leaning left, then leaning right, and finally diving forward to miss the goeey missiles. It was the dive forward that was to lead to her featured bit, and after she'd dived onto the floor twice the director yelled "cut" and gave everyone else a few minutes off. Miyori came forward with the prop assistants and asked "You ready, Miss Kim?" Kim nodded, her heart beating like it was overtime in a championship game. She wanted to get this done in one take, partly out of what she was beginning to realize was professional pride, but partly out of another desire that she was only vaguely coming to understand -- she wanted to get really gungy, really messed up! The prop men hooked the looped ends of two thin wires around her wrists and positioned themselves on either side of the camera behind the cake at the end of the table. Kim stood at the other end of the table, eying the thick creamy deserts on it with anticipation. At the call of "action" she tensed her legs and sprung fully extended into the air, landing with a satisfying splat! on top of a host of pies and cakes. She felt a tug on the wires and the loops dug painfully into her wrists, but she also felt herself being pulled forward on the table. Cream and filling and pie tins bounded off her face as the prop men pulled her quickly the length of the table. The big quite cake loomed in her vision and she tried to catch her breath, already feeling the bruises that would appear tomorrow. She lowered her head and was pulled careening into the huge cake, which collapsed beneath her weight but cushioned her fall. She rose to a sitting position, wiped crumbs and frosting from her eyes, and looked down at herself. Nothing -- *nothing* -- was untouched by gooey cream or birghtly colored frosting. She rubbed some of it into her face happily, but before she had time to enjoy the sensation Miyori was by her side, and she oculd make out the prop crew wiping up the mess she'd caused. "Wonderfur, Miss Kim! Wonderfur!" Miyori said, helping Kim to her feet. The crew applauded briefly, but Kim had eyes only for the virginal white ae, a replica of the one she'd destroyed, being wheeled to the end of the table. The director said something guttural to Miyori, who in turn tapped Kim on the shoulder. Kim nodded and climbed back onto the table. Two prop men, whom she dwarfed, got on either side of her and grabbed hold of her ankles. On the count of what must have been Japanese for "three!" they lifted, and Kim slid forward. She took a deep breath and lowered her head, plunging it straight down into the cake. Cream and crumbs filled her nose and ears, and for a moment she lost awareness of where she was. She felt her legs being lifted straight up and gravity pulling her down through the real cake and into the hollow box at its base. She spit crumbs and gunk out of her mouth, tried to open her eyes and immediately thought the better of it. Finally, her hands found the floor and she braced herself against it. She felt the prop men, unseen, let go of her legs, and suddenly she was doing a handstand. She waved her legs in as many directions as she could think of and then felt herself falling. *Catch me, dammit!* And she felt reassuring hands on her thighs and calves, bracing her, and then other hands pulling her out. Miyori looked worried. Kim clawed muck and cream from her sticky face and grinned at the Japanese girl. "God this is fun! Let's finish it up!" The prop man brought a low chair (from Kim's point of view, that was the only kind they made in this country) for her to brace herself on, and after a few tries she managed to work herself into a fairly stable handstand, her long legs straight up in the air and her waist barely grazing the edge of the table. The prop people quickly attached tiny hooked strings to the hem of her dress and got out of the shot. At the call for "action," they gave a tug and the slinky black dress slid down (up?) to Kim's waist. She felt the sharp rush of air and then the familiar warmth of the studio lights on her exposed butt, felt the goosebumps rise and tried to pretend that they were from the temperature changes and not in anticipation of what was going to happen next. Something cold and sticky and sloppy hit her in the thigh, and its force almost caused her to topple over. She swung her legs hard in the opposite direction and managed to right herself in time to receive another heavy gooey missile right on the exposed cheeks of her ass. She took three more hits, including a rather painful one that landed almost exactly between her legs, before the director yelled what she now understood as Japanese for "cut" and she was allowed to lower her legs. # For all the work that she'd put into the scenes, they lasted all of a minute and a half in the final version of the film. Kim sat with the rest of the cast and crew to watch it, this time down in front, one of the gang, and just like before she couldn't help but marvel at how sexy she looked, and at how funny she could be. Music and editing helped, of course. As th camera played up her long exposed legs and form-fitting dress, the soundtrack was a deep, slow saxophone; when the first pie hit her in the butt it was accompanied by the sounds of what Americans would call a whoopee cushion, as was the pie she took in the tits. She studied herself carefully, noting where she could have widened her eyes more, opened her mouth more roundly to show surprise. She was also grateful to see that the camera did not pick up how turned on she'd gotten. In the kitchen, when she dove away from a flying pie the editing made it look like she'd leapt straight onto the desert-laden table and slid the full length of it like a cowboy in a Western bar. Even better, the editing cut from her hitting the large cake to being buried waist-deep in it, scissoring her legs ridiculously. The dress slid down (up?) her legs to the accompaniment of a hilarious slide trombone, and Kim grinned at seeing lower half exposed again save for the tight black thongs she wore. The pie fight between the other cast members continued, but occasionally the camera would cut back to this poor, once-glamorous woman, half-buried in a white cake, being splattered with pie on the legs and bare butt. The crew was roaring with laughter, and Kim felt herself grow warm, almost blush. She remembered standing in the shower stall, allegedly washing off the goo from her body, how her hands had lingered as she pushed the cream down her legs, how she'd massaged it into her skin, and how she'd felt as her hands had brought the sticky mess to places it hadn't gotten to on the set. The scene played itself out without further shots of Kim Hardaway, nothing to show how thoroughly mucked up she'd looked when she finally finished the shoot -- and nothing, thank God, to show the orgasm she was on her way to as she left the set, whipped cream and frosting dripping off the globes of her ass. Kim rubbed the edge of her paycheck over her thigh and settled back to watch the rest of the final cut of the movie. *I think I've found another career in this place.* THE END -------------------------------------- Back to Shokolada's Messy Stories archive