This story is purely fictional and meant for adult audiences only! All resemblance to actual persons is coincidental. It contains graphic sex described in first person narration by its transgendered, teenage protagonist. If you are not an adult, or if you find this type of material offensive, please stop reading and dispose of this file. You have been warned of the content. If you proceed neither the author nor the site host will be held responsible!

 

The Greatest Lie

by Alexandra Rios©

 

Chapter 9

My Fifteen Seconds of Fame

  

Two hours after saying goodbye to Rick and Randy, Tran and I left Minneapolis and boarded a plane to LA. I fell asleep at take off, and woke as the plane began its descent. Tran was staring out the window at the city’s lights spread in an endless shimmering galaxy below. "Wow, I love LA already," she exclaimed. She was right: viewed from the air on a clear night, LA is a gorgeous vista of stars, like heaven mirrored on the earth. Up close, some of those stars are ugly and dangerous. And we were about to enter one of LA’s dirtiest secret worlds: the San Fernando Valley porn industry: the sinister, sleazy cousin of Hollywood.

We were met at the gate by a silent driver holding a sign marked "Rios". Wordlessly, he put our carry-on bags onto a luggage cart, picked up our checked baggage, and took us too a stretch limo parked in the red zone. He opened the door and motioned for us to get in. "Welcome to LA," a Russian-accented voice commented from within. "You must be our newest stars." I feigned a shiver, jiggling my boobies provocatively. "Good to be here. It’s freezing in Minneapolis," I replied. The limo took off. "We’re going to the studio for a read through. You hungry? Thirsty? Want some coke?" He produced a dusty mirror with four lines of coke, the smudged, dusty residue of several others, and a tightly rolled hundred. Tran looked at me, uncertain. Wanting to go with the flow, and still slightly groggy with sleep, I said "Sure, thanks," and snorted both lines. My eyes watered as the menthol crystals blasted my sinuses. I hadn’t had cocaine for months, and rarely so strong and pure as these lines. Soon Tran and I were animated and vivacious.

"So what are you, the director or an actor?" I asked. He was a burly, bearded Russian émigré whose dancing eyes were framed by broad cheekbones and dark, thick eyebrows.

Before our host could answer, Tran said "You good looking enough to be actor, but how big is your cock? Can we see it?"

"Slow down, girls. None of the above. I’m Pavel, and I am the producer. Have either of you been in adult films before?"

"No, this is our first time," I admitted. Tran followed up "But don’t worry, we suck and fuck like pro’s."

He dialed a cell phone, motioning us to be silent. "Ricardo, can you meet me at the studio in about 45? I have a couple of newby T-Girls to rehearse for a shoot tomorrow. Yeah, they’re cute, and really lively. OK, and give Andre a call to, same thing. OK, see you there."

"Who are we meeting, our co-stars?" I asked.

"No, some of our other talent. We’re saving the big boys for the real thing. They need to save their energy, if you know what I mean."

We nodded enthusiastically. The limo struggled through rush hour traffic to a nondescript warehouse in Northridge. We pulled in behind a chain-link gate that rolled closed and locked behind us. It was a warm, brilliant day, and the mountains ringing the Valley had an unfamiliar clarity and brilliance. Pavel showed us to an office and bade us to sit down. He handed us each a sheaf of papers and told us to read. The script was called "Transsexual Hookers," and it was a series of vignettes about Transsexual Sex Industry Workers plying their trade. I was to play a call girl from the personals section of a sex paper, and Tran's character was working a mythical bar modeled on Illusions at the 7969 Club in West Hollywood. There was some minimal dialog to set the stage, and followed by a description of shots and angles for the sex scenes.

"How are we supposed to memorize all these moves?" I asked.

"That’s for the camera crews. You’ll just improvise, and I want to see how you do it."

"You mean right now?"

"That’s right. OK, let’s read your lines, and after Ricardo and Andre get here, we’ll run through the action."

"You mean we are having sex with these guys right now, with you watching?"

"That’s the idea, honey. And get used to a crowd. There are going to be a lot more people watching tomorrow."

We ran through our dialog. Tran playing a pin ball machine at a noisy bar, shaking her booty and half exposed breasts. She is approached from behind by a date, and they chat suggestively about putting balls in the holes, points, scores, and how long she can keep a ball in play. The customer gets aroused and begins fondling her as she plays, but she plays on, lighting up the machine, which records points madly, until the distraction of his pawing arms makes her lose the point. The customer apologizes Tran tells him now he has to pay. He asks how much, and she quotes a price. He nods and they leave the bar together, arrive at a nearby hotel, and you can guess the rest. "But I’m terrible at pin ball," Tran complained. "Better at bed ball."

"Very funny, you can throw that one in if you remember it tomorrow. Don’t worry about the game, we’ll rig the machine."

My script was even simpler: a guy studies the personal ads in a the LA Xpress (a local sex paper), picks mine, calls me, we chat, I give him directions to a pay phone in from of my apartment, invite him up, and you know the rest. They were easy lines: I had been in a bunch of plays in high school, so it was easy for me. Tran’s a natural actress, and soon a pleased Pavel pronounced himself satisfied.

The phone rang. Ricardo and Andre had arrived. "Get yourselves ready for the sex scene. I’m going to video tape it. We’ll go over it later and I tell you what works and what doesn’t. The basic rule is, be visually and vocally expressive. The audience likes to see and hear you suffer. The men are going to be rough, and you have to act like they’re killing you. Talk dirty, like you want it, and then cry out in pain and act hurt and humiliated when you’re getting it in the ass. Look up admiringly at your man while you’re sucking, and smile and lick your lips when you get your facial. Remember, you’re playing a couple of cocksucking whores who get paid to be used and abused, and love every minute of it. That’s what the audience wants to see, and that’s what I want. Now go get ready. Tran, you’re first. Alexandra, you read her dialogue, and Ricardo reads Andre’s."

We went to a cluttered, bright-lit dressing room. I helped Tran get ready, as there was no make-up assistance for rehearsal. We emerged, and Pavel introduced us to Andre and Ricardo. Andre was a short, muscular black guy, and Ricardo was a lanky, mustached latino, who could barely read Andre’s lines. Andre just stood around as Tran did the bar/pinball scene, as Ricardo and I exchanged the dialogue and negotiated a price and agreed on the trick. Then the scene cuts to a sleazy hotel bedroom, and we walked over to a bed with hotel style side tables. I read dialogue, telling Andre to get comfortable, and he strips to his boxers and socks and sits down on the bed. Tran strips to black low cut bra and panties. Pavel panned her body, lingering on the slight bulge in her panties at the crotch. Tran kneels on the floor by the bed, and I read dialogue, begging Andre let Tran suck his cock. He drops his boxers, steps forward, grabs her hair, and Tran begins licking and sucking. Ricardo read as Tran sucked Andre. "Mmm, that feels good, bitch. Suck it, you slut. Let me fuck your face, you fucking whore. That’s it, suck it, suck it down your slutty throat." Andre repeated the lines Ricardo just read. Tran cooed wordless expressions of appreciation, and looked up adoringly at the silent Andre. Pavel tells her to break off and cues me to read "Oh, that tastes so good, and you’re so big. Give me more." Andre slammed his big black dick back into her face, as Ricardo read humiliating, misogynist dialogue and Pavel filmed. Pavel signaled Ricardo, who reads "OK, bitch, I’m ready to fuck your butt."

"Be gentle to my tight Asian ass," I read for Tran. "You’re too big for me." Tran slips out of her panties and bra and gets on hands and knees on the bed, ass up. Pavel pans her expectant face, her swaying breasts, and slender backside, tiny cock and balls, and her tiny, puckered ass. "Stick your finger in it," he ordered, and he filmed as Tran licked her manicured index finger, and slipped it into her own hole. He quickly panned to the momentary flash of pain in her eyes." "Oh, I’m ready for you now," I read. "Please be careful."

"Now put on some lubricant," Pavel ordered. "You put on a condom." Pavel rolled film as Tran put lube on her ass, and Andre rubbered his now fully loaded cock. "OK, fuck her now. Grab her hair with one hand and her tits with the other, and ram it in. You read."

"Oh please, go slowly, …"

Andre slammed his entire nine inches into Tran at once. She didn’t need any acting ability to communicate her response, which was to thrash involuntarily and beg him to stop in an anguished, pleading voice. "Keep reading," said Pavel.

"Oh stop, you’re hurting me. Too much, too big, much too big, ow, aaah."

Tran repeated these lines, and I could not tell if she was acting or if it was for real.

Pavel filmed from every angle, capturing every aspect of the penetration, Andre’s wild groping of Trans breasts and cock, his pulling of her hair, and the anguished response on her face. After he had explored every angle of the doggy style fuck, he told Andre to flip her over on her side, and he sat astride her thigh and rode her, grabbing her beautiful breasts and squeezing them like grapefruit. "Oh, yeah, fuck me hard, squeeze my titties," I read, and Tran repeated. "Do it to me, fuck me baby, harder, harder." "Fuck you, you little whore, fuck your little ass, I’m going to fuck a hole through you, slut, I wanna cum up your ass." Ricardo read.

"Play with your cock," Pavel ordered Tran, who complied. "OK, roll her onto her back, and pull her legs up." Pavel panned back, and waved for me to keep reading. "Ooooh, that feels good. Deeper, harder."

"Big happy smile now, Tran."

"Oh, yeah, I love to get fucked," I improvised. Tran repeated it with a satisfied grin. Andre gripped Tran’s slender ankles and bore down on her from above, and I read "That’s it big man, fuck me hard, you big black stud. Tran recited after me, and a warm, and deeply satisfied smile spread across her face. Her eyes danced with happiness as Andre pounded away. Pavel said "Excellent, perfect, yes, harder Andre, play with yourself, Tran," and she stroked her breasts and cock. Although it was obvious that they both enjoyed this brutal variation on this missionary position, the audience, and Pavel, demanded variety. Pavel instructed Andere to exit, which he did so swiftly that his exit brought a grimace to Tran’s eyes. Andre lay on his back, and propped his stiff cock to attention. Tran sat atop Andre, her legs astride him, and speared her bottom on his thick, upright member, and she rode him. She bounced up and down, her breasts flying, her hair swaying, and all the time with a beautiful smile of ecstasy gracing her lovely lips.

"Oh yeah, it feels so good, aaah, fuck me, oooh, fuck me, fuck me, oooo, harder, harder aaah."

"Fuck your ass, dirty little whore, fuck it, goddamn fucking slut whore, fucking ass slut whore," Ricardo growled, and Andre repeated.

"OK, now push her off and read the next page, Ricardo."

"Finish me in your mouth, slut, and don’t spill a drop."

"Mmm, yum," I replied, and Tran peeled of Andre’s rubber and took him deep down her throat. "Suck it, bitch, all the way, that’s it, Ooh, Oh yeah, Ahh." He spurted a load into Tran’s mouth, then pulled back and jerked himself and made is spatter into her hair, eyes, cheeks, and breasts. "Open your mouth and swallow some more," Pavel directed, and she took the last drops into her wet lips, and then let it run out to join the cum splattered on her breasts. "Smile, and lick it off your tits," Pavel demanded, and Tran did so, as I uttered gratefully "Mmm, tastes so good." Tran shot out her pink tongue to lick wayward drops of jism from her cheeks and chin. "Excellent," Pavel praised. "That was excellent. Now go rinse off." Pavel followed her to the shower as she did a quick rinse down, taking close ups of the jism as is slid off her breasts under the warm jets of the shower, and zooming in on her tired, puckered hole as she leaned over to dry her legs. She went out, and Andre was tying his shoes and getting ready to leave.

"See you next weekend, Andre," extemporized. "Take care at the slaughterhouse," she extemporized. "See you later, Baby," he said as he walked out the door. Tran dropped her towel, ran her hands up and down her glorious body, and reached down to pick up her clothes from the floor. As Pavel panned her, she got dressed, fixed her make up, and as he faded, she was back at the pinball machine, racking up improbably excellent scores, and looking over her shoulder for the next customer.

"Thanks everybody," Pavel boomed. If everything plays like that tomorrow, we’ve got a hit. Tran, Alexandra, get dressed and come to my office."

Ricardo interjected, "Hey, watta bout me. Don’t I get to fuck the other one?"

"It’s late, and she knows what she’s doing. Here, go get yourself laid." He handed Ricardo a couple of twenties.

Ricardo looked at me fiercely. "I’ll see you some other time, bitch."

"I look forward to that, so sorry it didn’t work out today," I replied mildly. I had no interest in getting fucked by a stringy little guy like Ricardo, but why piss him off? I accompanied Tran to the dressing room, feeling a little guilty about my role in getting her into this predicament and in helping Pavel carry it out. I was also nervous about the real thing the next day. "Are you OK with that?"

"Sure, it was fine. He wasn’t any rougher than some of my real clients. And it was sexy hearing you read my lines. It helped me get through it."

"How weird is that, getting fucked in front of a bunch of spectators?" Tran shrugged. "You know, there’ll be a lot more tomorrow."

"I didn’t really think about it after I started. I just listened to you and Pavel. We’ll be fine. You’re a good actress."

After she was dressed, we went to Pavel’s office. He and another guy, the director, Yuri, were watching Tran’s tape. "Good performance, Tran. I’m not worried about you either, Alexandra. You’re so good I wish it had been the final. You even got some emotion out of that loser Andre. If only Ricardo knew how to read, much less act."

Tran’s performance was convincing, and my line reading sounded natural and realistic. It appeared that she was really suffering pain and humiliation at the hands and cock of Andre. When she repeated my dialogue reading, it sounded fresh and real. Pavlov made a few comments, suggesting occasional eye contact with the camera to help the audience identify with the character. "But just momentary eye contact, like a futile plea for help to an equally powerless bystander. The audio is weak, but it doesn’t matter, we’ll have the set sound-boomed tomorrow. And don’t worry about the lighting. Tomorrow, you’ll wish you’d put on sunscreen, indoors. Tran, that’s outstanding work for a first timer." He handed us a couple hundred bucks each. "Expense money. Enjoy! I know the rehearsal was part of the contract, but your work was above and beyond. Get a nice dinner and hotel, have some fun, and I’ll see you here at 10:00 a.m. for hair and make up. You’ll meet your partners at noon, and we start shooting with Alexandra a 1:00 p.m. If you have the energy, it wouldn’t hurt to watch this again." He handed me the tape.

Ever budget conscious, we walked to a nearby hotel and got salads and a bottle of wine from a deli. The room was small and shabby, but the sheets felt clean and we were exhausted. The wine hit us hard and we collapsed on the bed fully clothed. I popped in Tran’s tape and we listened and watched a few minutes. Soon she had put her arms around me and was pressing her big boobs and her tiny but hard cock against me.

"So what was it like, getting fucked with the rest of us watching."

"It was OK. I mean I been fucked by maybe a thousand guys, so what’s one more. I like it."

"Andre was so rough to you. I like it slower."

"So do I, but a lot of tricks like to stick it in fast, make it hurt. I’m used to it. Besides, your mean Dr. Sanguan made me stop taking hormones for almost two weeks and now I’m horny to get fucked. I’m even horny to fuck like a guy." She guided my hand to her cock, which was as hard as steel, and larger than I remembered it.

"Enjoy it while you got it, Tran," I said, ducking my head beneath the covers. I pressed my lips against her satin panties, stroked her with my nose, and breathed hot air against it. She moaned and her hips undulated. I paused, and her muffled voice begged "Don’t stop," so I slid her panties down and took her sweet, silky, doomed member in my mouth. I was instantly rewarded with the lush, exotic flavor of her pre cum. She flung back the covers and I looked up at her. Her lovely face was framed by the twin peaks of her fabulous breasts, and her eyes were locked shut in pleasure. I slipped my hand under her but and found her tiny ass with my finger. It had contracted to a tiny pin hole after the afternoon’s abuse, and I had to lick my finger to ease its entry. As it slid inside her, her pelvis convulsed and her moans grew uncontrollable. At tiny, delicious fountain of cum erupted in my mouth, as her moans reached a crescendo. I swallowed part of her load, and then finished her with my hand, letting the rest squirt into a puddle in her navel. To my surprise, Tran’s cum was creamy and white, just like a real guy’s. I fondled her breasts and kissed her trembling lips, allowing her to savor her pleasant flavors from my mouth and tongue. We held the kiss as I tickled her navel, with my finger dipped in the slippery pool it now contained.

"That was great," I told her.

"Great for me too," she said sleepily, as we drifted off to sleep on one another’s arms.

We overslept, showered together to save time and rushed to the studio barely ahead of our 10:00 a.m. deadline. Our wet heads and un-made faces didn’t matter, because we were immediately placed into the hands of the hair and make up department. We were waxed, tweezed, blown out, brushed, manicured, pedicured, and made up by Louise and Charles, a Vietnamese couple who had been brought in on contract from a nearby salon. They went totally nuts over Tran, whose face and skin were beautiful even by the standards of Vietnamese women, and whose body had been fashioned to the proportions of a Barbie doll. I fretted over the shortness of my hair, which had not had time to grow out to my satisfaction. "Don’t worry, hon," said Charles, as he blew back a wayward tuft of my blond mullet. "We do this every week for Pavel, and your raw material is better than anyone’s. We’ll make you delectable." And after two hours of non-stop primping, I had to admit that I looked spectacular.

Pavel had suggested that I wear colored contacts to deepen the blue of my eyes. I was blinking the second one in when I heard the door open and a strangely familiar voice intoned "Well, well, Rios, so we meet again." I was still half blinded when I felt his hands grab and squeeze my breasts. "My, my, haven’t you grown since last year: tits, that is." As my eyes cleared, I recognized the face and the voice: Miguel, my high school tormentor and rapist.

"Miguel, what are you doing here?"

"Making movies and money, just like you, maricon. This is my third one. When Pavel showed me your picture, I knew it had to be you. So now we can have an early high school reunion. Just the two of us, this time. Too bad for Seth and Jack, they’re missing out on the fun."

"I thought you hated transsexuals, Miguel. I thought you hated me."

"But now I like fucking little vestigos like you. After that Prom Night, I got used to it. I like to fuck a nice, tight bunda better than a fat, smelly cunt, especially if I’m getting paid for it. Marta’s pregnant, fat as a pig, and too bitchy to fuck. So right now, you’ll do. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t hate fags, especially a stuck up little bitch like you." He pinched my breasts cruelly, and grabbed between my legs and squeezed. "Such a little girl, they even cut your cajones. You little smartass, aren’t you a freak now? You can’t lord over the rest of us anymore. You’re a subhuman too, now." He rubbed my empty scrotum and laughed mockingly. My cheeks burned.

"Miguel, I never looked down on you or the others at Uni. I was just a scared, confused kid, acting above it all because of my fear of being found out. I didn’t set out to get between you and Marta. I just bungled my way into it as I was hiding from something else. But when you found me out, but when you and the others fucked me that Prom night, I took the first step on the path on which I discovered myself. In a way, I guess I’ve got you to thank for helping find, and become, who I am." I turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Now just take me as who I am, and let me take you as you are. Forget high school. The past is what they make stories from. All action is in the present. That’s all I want from you."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Look, I’m putting aside the fact that you and your friends raped me. You can put aside the fact that I dissed you in a different lifetime.

Just then Pavel poked his head in, and asked in a smarmy tone "Are high school sweet hearts getting to know one another again?"

"Oh, yeah, we were about to break into the old school song. Actually, I was thinking, could we work this ad hoc reunion concept into the script? It’s a pretty compelling subtext."

"Great idea. Miguel, take a shower and go to makeup. Alexandra, come with me. Let’s doctor the script while the crew shoots Tran’s script."

When we were alone, I confronted Pavel. "That’s not very funny, surprising me with Miguel. We weren’t exactly good buddies in high school. In fact, I was terrified of him, and he hated me: justifiably, in both cases. I was a privileged and conceited AP student, and he was an industrial arts kid. Plus, I nearly seduced his girlfriend, and he retaliated by leading a gang bang rape of me."

"Well, it must have been a formative experience for him, because he sought us out to be in Transsexual films. And he’s terrific, one of the best studs we have. Too bad about your troubled past with him, but we gotta make a movie."

"I know, I just want to make a better movie."

"What’s your idea?" I told him that we should alter the call girl script to incorporate my actual dynamic with Miguel. Pavel loved it. He booted up the script on his computer, and we frantically re-wrote it and Pavel passed it out to the director and crew. (Don’t worry, dear Reader. you’ll read synopsis of it in a minute). "Miguel’s studying his new lines right now. The director loves it, and so do I. Alexandra, you’re a real pro. I should send you all of my scripts from now on. You have got a really kinky touch for such a baby."

"Thanks, it’s my Chaucer and Transgender research studies, no doubt."

Pavel laughed and gave me a hug. "You could be a giant in this business, if you want."

"As if," I laughed. "Not! After this movie Tran and I disappear. We’re getting the Operation in Thailand next week. This is our last job."

"What a waste. Well, how about a post op sequel."

"We’ll see how this goes, but I don’t think so. After all, I’ll be a virgin, again."

"I know," Pavel replied. "I know."

If you’ve never been on a set, even a porno set where they do things fast and loose, it is actually kind of boring and repetitive, as they re-shoot the flubbed lines and re-block for new scenes. The place is crammed with lights, cameras, and people, milling around and bumping into each other. The set starts out so cold your nipples are hard even before the action starts. The male stars get hard with the help of a "fluff girl", whose job it is to suck the star’s cock before and between the sex scenes. During the shoot, they have to turn off the noisy air conditioners, so by the end, the lights have heated the place to Saharan temperatures. Not the most erotic atmosphere, but what the hell, we were all pros. Yuri told me he liked to shoot the action sequence with as few breaks as possible. You just keep going until you hear "Cut."

It begins with Miguel looking at the Transsexual ads in the Xpress. He sees my picture as ‘Louisa Transsexual’, does a double take, and mumbles to himself ‘That looks like that stuck up bitch Luis from high school. I guess he’s a she now: stuck up little bitch. I’d like to fuck her brains out." He calls, I answer, ask him some perfunctory questions about himself and his preferences. I make sure he understands I’m a transsexual and that he has no ties to law enforcement. I ask his preferences, and he replies that he likes dominant Greek. Great, I like to be a bottom. How big a donation can you bring? He promises $200, and I say that’s perfect. Call me from the corner or Hollywood and Vine. As he rings off, I tell myself that his voice sounded familiar. Funny he didn’t say he had seen me before.

He calls from the corner, I ask him to identify a landmark to make sure he’s not a crank, he does, and then I give him my address and security code. I buzz him into my apartment. He looks at me hungrily, and he begins fondling my breasts and ass right away. Business before pleasure, I say pleasantly. I take his donation, spread a quilt on the floor, and tell him to get comfortable as I go into my bedroom stash the money. Then I come back and when I see him stripped to his socks, I recognize him. I say, "You look familiar to me. Have you seen me before?"

"Yeah, locker 101 next to you in gym class."

I look at his hard cock and say "Maybe I don’t remember you, but I’ll always remember that." I smiled and fondled his hardening cock.

"You never noticed me because you were with your rich friends in your college track courses. You never even talked to me in high school, you were so busy pretending to be something you weren’t and looking down on me and my friends. But I always thought you were a maricon, a faggot, when I saw you staring at me in the locker room. I guess I was right."

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or hurt your feelings."

"Forget it. Don’t worry about it anymore. Now you’re not a high school hotshot any more, just another trannie whore."

"You can just leave if you’re going to talk to me that way."

"I’m not going anywhere. You took my money. I get what I came for." He seizes me and forces me to my knees.

"OK, but don’t hurt me," I said, cringing.

"I’ll do what I want." He grabs my hair and forces my face onto his cock.

I let his hands force my lips around his cock, and push it in and out of my mouth. The familiar mossy flavor of his uncut meat, and the savory appetizer of precum was very real, but the fluttering of the still camera’s shutter, the hot glare of the lights and the shuffling of the crews feet added a surreal aspect. Remembering the camera, I looked up worshipfully toward Miguel, who returned a cold glare, and then looked pleadingly into the winking red light of a rolling camera as Miguel speared his cock down my throat. I arched my back and stuck my ass in the air, to afford the cameras a view of my still unprobed ass and my cockette. Months of experience had made me a blow job expert, and he grunted pleasure and approval, muttering "Yeah, suck my cock, you trannie whore, suck me dry.

He sat on the couch, pulling my head with him by my hair. Then, his hands began a rough exploration of my ass. He stroked and pulled my cock roughly and poked at my ass with his fingers. I broke from my sucking and begged "Oh, that feels good, but I need you to fuck me." We took a quick break as Miguel was condomed and sucked by the fluff girl, and my hair and makeup were refreshed, and I went off stage and lubed my tush. I assumed an all fours, ass up position and begged Miguel to fuck me hard, but please start slowly. I felt his hard, hairy thighs between and against mine, and his hard cock pressing against, and bouncing on my puckered and intensely expectant ass. Off hormones for a week and exposed to the bizarre rehearsal the night before, I had gotten so horny that I needed a jolt of pain.

I turned and murmured, half to the camera and half to Miguel, "Please, I need you. Please fuck me." With that, he grabbed and pulled up my thighs, and rammed himself inside me. He slammed himself in fully in two overwhelming lunges, as I cried out in half real, half feigned pain and suffering. Of course, he ignored my writhing and twisting, and cries and pleading, and proceeded with his brutal and public invasion of my upturned ass. I looked pleadingly back at him, then into the camera, gasped a prayer for pity and begged him to please go slow and don’t hurt me.

The camera was powerless, and Miguel was deaf to my pleas, and I gyrated my ass back into his rampaging cock, writhed my head, and gripped the rumpled sheets to steel myself against the pain and humiliation. Searching for emotions to fuel my acting, I recalled and relived that agonizing prom night, when Miguel had instigated the savage gang rape that had sent me down this path to femininity and debasement. I thought of the circles of hell that I had visited between that night and the present: the sleazeball in the bus station; Jake, who had first loved, and then rejected me; Jon, who had wooed me and then betrayed me; Country Music, who had tried to murder me; Bo, who had made me his personal whore, and then offered me in trade for a peace in a drug war; and Carlos, who had brutally fucked me and then turned loose a diseased multitude on me. Now I had come full circle, and Miguel had me in his sadistic clutches again, now for all the world to see my final descent into sluttish submission. As let out a cry of pain and emotional anguish, Miguel forced my face to into the bed to smother my voice. I bit the sheets to suppress my torment, and noticed gratefully that a camera had zoomed in for a close-up as I shed my first tears. I mouthed "Help me" into the impassive lens.

Miguel had had enough doggy style, and he pulled out as a winced and moaned, and growled "Roll over, bitch." As soon as I had complied he grabbed my ankles, and upturned my ass and stuffed himself back inside me to the hilt. He fucked me on my back with my ankles pulled up to my ears, and my slender body bent beneath his pulsing pelvis. I twisted, and writhed beneath him, alternating between pleading gazes at Miguel and imploring glances into the camera, as my cries changed from pure pain to epiphanies of ecstasy. He rose higher above me, planted his right foot near my left ear, and bore down on me from above, his pelvis perpendicular to mine, so that my ass lacked even the minimal protection that the rounded curves of my buttocks provided. His pubis banged directly against my ass, giving him unrestricted access, and he ravaged my colon. My back soon ached from this hideous angle of attack. He pulled out, lay on his back, and forced me to sit on his cock, first facing him, and then pivoting me so that I faced away. His relentless pelvis rose and fell beneath me, forcing ever deeper new passages inside me. But now, each new invasion brought smiles of satisfaction and pleasure to my lips. By the time he rolled me back into doggy position, I was begging him for more, more, harder, deeper.

But the ass fucking portion of the show was ending. We had reached that most sacred moment in any hard core porn video, especially shemale porn: the facial cum shot. Indeed, so precious was this moment that the action paused, and Miguel went to his corner to be attended by his fluff girl, and I to mine to have my make up refreshed: the lovelier to look when his cum splashed all over me.

The crew re-set the lights and cameras, and checked the sound. Then I took my place on my knees and awaited Miguel. I again gazed up with moist, adoring eyes as he slipped his cock between my lips. I nearly gagged from the overwhelming taste of nicotine slathered over his cock: the fluff girl had obviously taken a recent cigarette break, and Miguel had come back with her tainted saliva covering him. I bravely sucked hard and swallowed, my eyes worshipping my master as his smelly cock traveled my mouth and throat. At last his cock erupted a salty balm, but after a single spurt in my mouth, he skillfully sprayed the full load into my hair, eyes, cheeks, neck and breasts. He must have been celibate for a week, so voluminous was his load. The cameras whirred and clicked as I licked my lips, grabbed his cock and balls and squeezed the last drops onto my outstretched tongue. I smiled most angelically, and said "yum." I held the pose for a few moments, and then heard Pavel exclaim "Perfect, Cut."

Miguel left wordlessly, and I cracked "Did I say something wrong?" drawing an appreciative laugh from the crew that must have further irritated and angered him. I shrugged my shoulders, returned to my dressing room and got into the hottest shower I could stand. I was brushing my teeth for the fourth time when Pavel knocked and walked in without asking. He sat down, obviously pleased and happy. "One never knows until one starts editing, but I think we had a great shoot. You were tremendous, such an intuitive actress. Those subtle asides to the camera: I love it."

"I felt a lot closer to the camera than to Miguel. Where did you get the great idea of pairing us? Did you have any idea?"

"No, he just said he thought he’d known you in high school."

"Known, in the biblical sense."

"He didn’t mention that."

"I’d like a last word with him."

"Help yourself, but don’t accept a date with him tonight."

"Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s in the mood."

"I meant I have first dibs on you."

I smiled, and left, playing hard to get for the moment.

I met Miguel as he was about to leave. "Miguel, I think we did really well together."

"I’m just glad to be through with you. The best thing about it is, now you can never complain to the police about what happened on Prom Night. I’ll just give them the tape and prove it was consented."

"I never complained to the police. They only came because my parents were worried, not because I complained." Not that there would have been any point in complaining: like the Minneapolis cops, the LAPD doesn’t give a shit about transsexual crime victims. And I wasn’t even angry anymore. As Tran had said of the loathsome Andre, Miguel was just another cock in the ass: one of many that had come before and many that would follow.

"Lying slut. I know you went to the police, but I don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m shut of you forever. Have a nice life, bitch."

"Miguel, the difference between us is that I can live with what happened between us. You’re still running away from it."

He walked away without answering.

So that was it. He was a paranoid, scared little shit. Well, in that case, I didn’t care either. A great load of anxiety lifted from me. For the last nine months since Prom Night, Miguel had been living in fear of me. I had lived fearlessly.

I returned to Pavel’s office feeling liberated. He peered up from his editing deck. "This is tremendous, you should see it."

"Thanks, I’ll wait for the theatrical release. Now tell me, what did you mean by first dibs?"

"I want to invite you to my house for some intimate photography and dinner. I feel an obligation, as I understand a national treasure is being exported to Thailand."
"Oh I get it, you want some more ‘before’ pictures. I don’t recall that being in my contract."

"That would be an extra. A thousand, plus a potential $500 performance bonus."

"What about Tran?"

"My colleague Yuri tells me that she accepted a similar offer."

"Are their going to be hordes and multitudes attending, like today?"

"No, just the four of us."

"Four?"

"Tran, Yuri, you and me."

"Works for me."

We rode in Yuri’s Mercedes through rush hour on the 101 to his place high above Mulholland in the Hollywood Hills. Even though I grew up in LA, I am always thrilled when I visit one these Hollywood aeries, with 270 degree views of the city’s lights. On this night, the Santa Ana winds had scoured the smog from the basin, so LA twinkled with unusual, almost psychedelic intensity. Tran was hypnotized. "I love LA. I never knew it was so much fun and so beautiful. And the people so nice."

"This is one night out of a thousand that’s like this. And believe me, not all the people are nice, and none of them are nice all of the time. In show business, ‘nice’ is part of the job."

"I like Yuri, he says you and I are the best T-Girl actresses ever."

"I bet he’s said that before."

Yuri and Pavel summoned us inside for lines of coke and a toast of Dom. They had lit the living room for still photography. I did a coy strip tease, exposing first one pert breast, then the other, slipping my dress down to my ankles and coyly stepping out, giving a peek a boo of my crotch. At first, I kept myself demurely tucked, then, surprise, and I smile abashedly. I study myself, as though puzzled by this unexpected appendage. I cuddle up with myself on the bed, fondling my breasts, and stroking my buttocks and cock. Then I lie on my back, pull my legs high and swing my bums up, as Pavel’s camera explores me, taking close ups of my ass. I spread myself wide with my fingers, I fondle my hole, poke in one finger, and another. My lips curl with into a bashful smile as my eyes glisten with unrequited lust. Then I roll over onto my tummy, rise up to all fours and turn my ass up, as though preparing to be mounted from behind. The flashes are strobing as Pavel’s camera studies the mystery of my shrunken cock, and my flattened, empty scrotum, and finally takes more close-ups of my ass. I am embarrassed, and say so. Yuri tells me it is like a brilliant, pink star set in a pearl firmament of my exquisitely white flesh. Pavel tells me I look as tight as a child. You’re beautiful, take a final pose, and I smile triumphantly, proudly, and nakedly into the lens. "Fabulous!" Pavel comments as he loaded yet another roll of film." They ran Tran through the same routine as I watch amusedly: do all guys want the same thing, I wonder.

I asked, "Do all your shoots end in tight close-ups of the model’s ass?"

"Absolutely, it’s to the solo shot what the facial is to an action video. The exclamation point at the end of a hot story."

"God, it’s gross enough to get fucked there, but at least that feels great. But to stare at? I don’t get it!"

"They want to see what their cocks would see, if they had eyes. Every guy who looks at your butt shots is going to think about fucking you in the ass. At least, that’s my theory. The fact is, that’s what the audience wants, so we give it."

"Fucked in the ass or creamed in the face by a million guys. Sounds like a dream come true," laughed Tran.

The doorbell rang, and a big tray of sushi arrived. We began eating the delicious, spicy morsels, drinking champagne and snorting coke. Soon, we were relaxed, buzzed, and laughing about the tormented Miguel. Pavel and Yuri recounted their careers: film students and wunderkind film makers in the old Soviet Union; careers exploding to international acclaim in the glasnost era; emigration to Hollywood, with great expectations; but rejection as plodding, aging outsiders by the youth-obsessed Hollywood studios. To keep working, they turned to porn, stigmatized themselves, but found themselves enjoying the creative challenges of non-stop action, improvisation, and the need to produce constant variations on well established and sacrosanct forms. And they enjoyed the subculture of porn and its people, all outsiders and rejects: casualties of one type or another. And of these, T Girls and the male actors who worked with them were the most fascinating.

I told them my story, and Pavel and Yuri, feverish with another round of coke, and champagne, grew animated. Think of the possibilities: a pornographic documentary. Tran and I to were giddy with drugs, booze and fatigue. Yuri asked if we ever got it on with one another. We giggled, and I said "Occasionally, but not since last night."

"Will you do it for us now."

"You mean for pictures?"

"Of course. No video, just me and Pavel with still cameras."

"How much?" I asked.

"Another couple of thousand," Pavel replied.

"Twenty five hundred if we get a cumshot," I countered. I looked at Tran quizzically. "That’s your department."

"No problem," she replied confidently.

"Deal," Pavel agreed.

Tran and I started out holding hands as we sipped more champagne. I began fondling her amazing breasts, first through her low-cut, satin bodice, then her bare breasts. I kissed and licked her erect, brown nipples: then our lips joined in a kiss as she slipped down my dress and nuzzled her swaying breasts against mine. We slipped out of our dresses and panty hose, and retired to a bed where we had a brief panty clad embrace before stripping. We pressed our cocks against one another: hers hard, uncut and brown; mine pink, circumcised and still soft. She examined my empty sac and looked puzzled into the camera, then began sucking me. I slithered into a 69 position with her and we gave each other a mutual blow job, caressing and spreading the other’s buttocks and playing with the other’s rings. I inserted my finger into her, a she hers into me, as the flashes popped and the cameras clicked.

As they re-loaded film, I assumed the submissive position, and Tran put on a condom and kneeled behind me. She lubed my tush and her small, but hard cock, and slipped it inside me. I feigned a surprised look and pain: she was barely thicker than a finger, and made my rectum buzz with pleasure from the first moment. She fucked me with all her meager strength, her boobs tickling my arched back, and her hands playing with my own titties and cockette. I love getting fucked by Tran: to be the bottom for another beautiful T-Girl, is to be the ultimate bottom. As her hips began to flail uncontrollably, I forced her out, rolled over onto my back, took her astride me and rolled my titties into a narrow tunnel around her small but surging cock. Her face contorted into a paroxysm of ecstasy, and I broke into an expectant and happy smile as she came onto my breasts and neck. She slid down atop me, and we ended in a kiss, smearing both our breasts with her creamy load.

Pavel was ecstatic, regretting only that he had not videoed our performance. He wrote out a check, and when he handed it to me I noticed he had overpaid us by about $500. When I mentioned this to Tran, she smiled and said "How nice of them. I was planning on fucking the two of them for free."

"Me too," I agreed, "But we could certainly use the extra money."

We emerged to see Pavel open another bottle of champagne and Yuri splitting out another set of lines. Pavel offered me a glass and Yuri the mirror. Though I was still buzzing, I accepted, thinking what the hell, if anyone’s got a few brain cells to waste, it’s me. And after all, this was probably my last sex as a pre-op. Thought they were paunchy, balding and a little old for my tastes, I certainly preferred that Pavel, Yuri or both of them hold that distinction rather than the odious Miguel, or even Tran, who doesn’t really count the same way.

We went to the master bedroom, which featured a sturdy looking king size bed surrounded by mirrors. Pavel dimmed the lights and turned on Enya, whose soaring silken voice provided a lovely backdrop to the sounds of sex. Pavel and Yuri joined us on the bed, and Tran and I took turns sucking them. Both of them had been profoundly aroused by their day’s work and the sucking of two sets of practiced, silken lips. Pavel had instantly emitted precum, and when I kissed Tran between cocks, I tasted Yuri’s on her flicking tongue. "Yum," we agreed, before returning to their cocks. Yuri was so hot that he almost came in my mouth, but he controlled himself and slipped on a condom. So did Pavel. I was pleased that he returned for me, rather than my friend. I guided him to my ass, and he entered my tight hole carefully and slowly. Studying myself in the mirror, I moaned "Mmm, I love it," and my body rose to meet his thrusts from behind. I heard Tran’s erotic moans, and watched her beautiful face first contort and then settle into a smile of sexual satisfaction as Yuri entered and began fucking her.

Pavel was an experienced lover of T-Girls. He began slowly and picked up velocity with perfect timing. After my body got in sync with his, he fondled my cockette as though it were a clit, and my breasts with expert care, as he breathed incoherent Russian endearments heavily into my ear. His thick beard tickled my neck, and his hairy body scoured my naked flesh. He murmured "you’re fabulous, so tight and responsive."

"Thank you," I cooed, you’re fantastic too, but don’t you want to try Tran?"

"Good idea," he said, and I was relieved that he and Yuri changed condoms before changing places. I sucked Yuri back to full erection and allowed him access to me, and he slid in painlessly and quickly. He was a little smaller than Pavel, but in better shape, and he fucked me more vigorously but mechanically than Pavel had, paying less attention to my breasts and cockette, and more to his own pleasure. I glanced to the mirror and saw that Tran seemed less pleased with Pavel’s attentiveness than she had been with Yuri’s athleticism, and after a few minutes they again changed condoms and places again. I now put my legs on Pavel’s broad, soft shoulders and watched in the mirror above as he entered me, as though observing a real time movie with myself as the star. "Enjoying the mirror?" Pavel asked. "I’m loving everything," I replied. He redoubled his efforts, bearing down with greater force and speed. I glanced at Yuri atop Tran, and saw her face transported to ecstasy as Yuri’s thrusting reached new heights of speed and force. Pavel too was banging his burly frame into me with increased energy, and Yuri and Pavel both orgasmed in a concert of Russian. Pavel rolled off me and fell into post coital sleep, and Tran shrugged the snoring Yuri to her side. I cuddled up with Tran, pulled a rumpled cover over us, and we too fell asleep.

I awoke at first light, and remembered in a panic that we needed to time a call to my mother in two hours, to simulate our arrival on the first plane from Minneapolis. It was Christmas eve, and my mom had planned to take us on an expedition through the pre Christmas sales in Beverly Hills. We slid out of bed, collected our things, and left a note for Yuri and Pavel, leaving our Minneapolis phone numbers and addresses. We showered at our hotel, checked out, and got a cab to my moms. I called from the hotel lobby, pretended to be announcing our arrival at the airport.

We pulled up to my family home in Brentwood, on a shady stretch of upper class privilege. Viewing the manicured lawns and large, lovely homes, Tran said "Alexandra, I never knew you a rich girl."

"I’m not. Rich, that is." We laughed.

My mom loved Tran at first sight, and announced "I think I’m going to like having a daughter. You’ve had a hard day already, and a long trip coming up." Tran and I smiled at each other knowingly. "Let’s have some retail therapy," she said cheerfully.

My mom was quite generous when she was spending the money. She bought Christmas gifts for Tran and me, and several things for herself, at Neiman’s and each of the other half dozen shops we stopped in along Rodeo. As we passed by an office building on Canon, she confided "That’s where I’m getting my eyes done next week. When you and Tran get back, we can all recuperate together. I can even have a manicurist and a masseur come to the house. It’s going to be such fun." Yeah, I thought to myself bitterly, maybe we can pop "Transsexual Hookers" into the VCR and share a bowl of popcorn.

Still, it was nice to get a load of half priced bras (in my soon to be C cup size), panties, nighties, tops, skirts and dresses on Mom’s plastic. The back seat of her Honda was fully loaded by the time the stores started closing. It was a Merry Christmas after all.

The day after Christmas, my mom took Tran and me to LAX, and we began our long ride to Phuket, Thailand. I think that you’ll agree that it had been a long strange trip to get there. It also was a long and winding road from there on. But that’s another story.

 

Alexandra Rivers

© aka virtual_xx@hotmail.com

© Kulick, Don, Travesti, Sex, Gender & Culture Among Brazilian Tansgendered Prostitutes, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois 1998.

© Brazilian Portuguese for ass.

© For those of you who don’t speak French: "Hello, may I speak with my Father?" "Hector, it’s your daughter." "Impossible, I don’t have a daughter."

© If you would like, I will tell you some of their stories in a later chapter. Some of them are even more interesting and sexy than mine!

© Aren’t you glad to read a transformation story where the heroine doesn’t dress on Halloween? I’m so bored with that theme!

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Alexandra Rios. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.