Amazingly Ordinary
By Wes
Leigh
This is a work of fiction intended
solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people
or places is purely coincidental.
Readers who would like to chat are encouraged to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.
This story is the property of
the author and is protected by copyright laws.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the
author's consent.
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"CUT!" the director yelled.
"That's a wrap! Good job
everyone."
Kristian jumped off me and stood inside the stairwell. "How much time do we have?" he asked the
director.
"Thirty minutes," the director replied. "Ummm, make that
forty-five. We need to clear out these
zombies before we can set up new camera positions. Except you, zombie guy." He pointed at me. "We need you to stay right where you are."
"I'll bring him back!" Kristian said, smiling that gorgeous
smile of his that lights up half the planet.
He leaned down, grabbed my hand, and pulled me off the ground to stand
next to him in the stairwell. "Come with
me," he said, with a mischievous grin.
He pulled me by the hand up the stairwell and led me at a stumbling run
across the grass to a bunch of RV's in a nearby
parking lot. We hurried past all the
movie crew and zombie extras and all the other dozens of people hanging around
to watch the movie being made. Kristian
dragged me to the door of one RV, opened it, and pulled me inside.
"Wait," I panted.
"What are we doing here?"
Kristian turned and smiled at me. "This is my dressing room and home away from
home while we're filming. We need to get
cleaned up. Before our pants show
everyone what just happened."
I looked down in a panic, realizing that a wet spot was
beginning to show in my jeans. Damn!
Kristian laughed at my embarrassing situation and pulled me
toward the back of the RV. We stopped
next to the bathroom, a dinky little cubicle with a shower, toilet, and
sink. He opened a cabinet and pulled out
washcloths and towels. "Get those off,"
he commanded.
"Huh?" I intelligently responded.
He rolled his eyes and reached for my belt. I stood, frozen in shock, as the cutest boy
on the planet unbuckled my belt, unsnapped my jeans, and lowered my
zipper. Then he tugged my jeans halfway
down my thighs and grabbed the waistband of my underwear in both hands. I finally snapped out of it and grabbed his
hands with my own. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
I shouted.
He snickered.
"Cleaning us up before the wet spot spreads. Duh!"
He tugged on my underwear, pulling them down and revealing my still
plumped up cock and brown pubes, covered in spunk. "Nice one," Kristian said, with a grin. Then he took one of the washcloths, wet it in
the sink, and handed it to me.
My face wasn't simply red with humiliation but was now bright
purple. Here I was, standing next to the
gorgeous Kristian Hansen, with my pants and underwear halfway to my knees. My cock was flopped out, covered in my own cum,
and he was handing me a wet washcloth to clean it up.
The only thing that would make this moment more bizarre
would be ...
... SHIT! Kristian pulled
his own pants and underwear down in one quick jerk. Now HIS cock was right out in the open, and I
was staring at the most perfect, most beautiful, most delicious teenage cock
I've ever seen. Well,
actually, it's the only teenage cock I've seen since my time years ago
in high school showers, and I was too scared to get a good luck at those, for
fear of popping a boner and ending my school career in shame. Now I was getting a great look, up close and
personal, at Kristian's delectable cock.
It was uncut, with skin just barely covering a light, pink
cap. Pale skin, light blue veins
running along the side. Only three or
four inches long, but nice and thick and still a bit puffy.
Kristian wet another washcloth and began wiping off his
cock. It was coated with a shiny
film. He pulled the foreskin back and
squeezed, milking his shaft. A thick,
creamy blob oozed out of the end. He
touched the cream with one finger, wiped it off, and lifted it to his
lips. He sucked it in and swallowed. "Nice," he whispered.
He finished cleaning off his cock and wiped his belly. There was a fluffy nest of blonde pubes above
his cock. It was matted with cum at the moment.
Kristian scrubbed away, then rinsed out the washcloth and scrubbed some
more. Now his pubes were wet, but clean.
He lifted his cock and ran the washcloth over his balls.
They were plump, hairless, and hanging down a bit. He carefully washed them, wiping away the few
stray bits of cum that had managed to seep down that far. Then he looked up at me, surprised. "Aren't you going to clean up?" he asked.
I shook my head to clear out the cobwebs. I couldn't believe this was actually happening to me.
Kristian took the washcloth out of my hand and bent down in
front of me. He ran it through my pubes
first, cleaning off my tangled, hairy belly.
After rinsing the washcloth, he took my cock in one hand and ran the
washcloth up and down my shaft with the other.
I could only gasp and watch as my cock began to swell up in his hands.
He snickered and began stroking me.
I couldn't look away.
It was like a major car wreck on the side of the highway. I had to watch.
He ran his fingers down to my taint and pressed in. Then, while still pushing his fingers into
me, he slid them up, past my balls, and slowly up the front of my now-semi-stiff
cock, squeezing out the last oozing glob of cum. He played with it for a second, touching a
finger to the shining droplet, pulling it away and watching the glistening
string that connected his finger to my cock.
Then he leaned in and licked it off!
He straightened up and licked his lips.
He must have liked it, because he leaned forward again and began sucking
on the end of my cock, pulling the juice right out of me. I could feel my body giving up the last ounce
of fluid in my shaft. It slid up the
tube and into Kristian's mouth.
His lips pulled off with a loud smack. He licked his lips and looked up at me. "That's all we have time for right now. They're gonna want
us back on set soon." He used the
washcloth to clean up my underwear and the inside of my jeans, then he handed
me a handheld blow dryer. "Here you
go. This should dry out your pants."
I was too stunned to speak, so I turned on the blow dryer
and aimed it at my wet jeans.
Kristian pulled off his own jeans and dropped them on the floor. Then he stripped off his underwear and tossed
them into a hamper. He walked back into
the bedroom at the back of the RV and opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of
baby blue boxer briefs. He slid them up
his long, coltish legs, settled them in place on his hips, and reached inside
to stuff his cock into a comfortable spot.
He smiled at me and pointed at my groin. I looked down and saw a long string of precum
dripping from my cock to the floor. Where had that come from? I thought Kristian had sucked me completely
dry, and here I was ready to go again. I
groaned and quickly wiped it off. Then I
concentrated on drying the wet spot in my underwear, hoping to keep my eyes off
Kristian's amazing body long enough to finish the job without squirting with a
spontaneous orgasm.
Kristian pulled his jeans back on and checked the
groin. "These look okay. I don't think it soaked through, but I never
cum that much ... not when I've already cum three times." He looked up at me with a devilish grin on
his angelic face.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
͠ ͠
͠
Ten minutes later, with our cocks stuffed back into dry
pants, we headed back outside. Back over
at the stairwell, we found the director fussily rearranging camera crews and
rechecking angles. He saw us coming and
stopped frowning, quickly putting on a phony smile. "Ah, good, Mr. Hansen. We're almost ready for you to enter the
secret bunker."
Kristian turned to me and whispered, "I'm going to get you
in the movie, after we film these scenes."
"You're what?" I asked, stunned.
He put one finger in front of his lips and shushed me with a
wink. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled
me forward.
The director motioned for me to lay down on the ground, just
as before, with Kristian sprawled out on top of me. I sucked in my breath when he wiggled around,
pushing his junk into mine. It was a
good thing I'd just cum, or I'd have sprouted wood in a heartbeat. Kristian gave me a wicked grin, then turned
his head sideways and dropped his face down onto my chest.
Some guy came forward and stood in front of the camera,
holding a small board covered in scribbled writing (I think they call it a dumb
slate or something like that). After a
few seconds, the guy dashed off. The
director pointed at Kristian and whispered, "Action."
Kristian slowly opened his eyes. He lifted his face gradually and rotated his
head, looking in every direction. He
blew out his breath in relief, then squinted his eyes with determination. He slid down my body and landed in a squat
inside the stairwell. His hands were resting
casually on my knees, bracing himself on my dead zombie body while looking
right up into the camera. He was
resolute; the invaders wouldn't capture him, nor would they win. He looked down at my dead body and,
unbelievably, shed a single tear. For me. For all the poor people who'd been killed by
the evil invaders, doomed to be converted into zombies. He squeezed my knee gently, then turned away
with an even greater resolve. Kristian ran,
hunched over, down to the bottom of the stairwell, then glanced back over one
shoulder at the camera. Now he was
angry. He turned back to the door and
punched in a code on the keypad near the handle. The door clicked and he pulled it open, then
slipped inside.
"Cut!" the director called.
Kristian came back up the stairwell.
The director leaned over the cameraman's shoulder, watching
the playback. They chatted and pointed
and chatted some more. Then the director
said, "Great take, Kristian. Let's do
the next one with more sadness for the dead humans and more anger at the
invaders.
I didn't know what was wrong with the first take. I thought Kristian did an amazing job, but if
it meant having him lay on top of me again, I was down for a second take.
͠ ͠
͠
Five takes later, the director was finally satisfied.
And I was starting to get hard again from having Kristian on
top of me and sliding off my body and grabbing my knees. From what I could see of his pants, he was
getting a bit chunky too.
"Lunch break, everyone," the director shouted. "Marty!" he called out.
His assistant, a guy with shaggy hair and thick glasses, ran
up. "Yes, boss."
"Where's the friendly zombie?" the director asked.
"Finishing up in make-up."
"Have him over here after lunch. We'll film his scenes with Mr. Hansen next."
Kristian held up one hand.
"Yeah," Kristian said, "about that ... I want this guy to be my friendly
zombie." He pointed at me.
The director's mouth fell open. His lips flopped up and down like a fish out of
water. "But ... but ... but ...," was all he
could say.
"He's been in all the scenes so far," Kristian
insisted. "I want him for my pet
zombie."
"But ... but ...," the director continued mumbling.
"And it really doesn't matter which zombie I use," Kristian
added, "so I choose this one."
The director finally found his voice. "We can't make a change like that at the last
minute. He won't know what he's supposed
to do."
"I'll work with him," Kristian said. "It won't be a problem."
The director must have realized that he was stuck. This was Kristian Hansen he was dealing with,
the most in-demand actor in the market at the moment,
and Kristian was staring at him with unblinking eyes, determined to get his
way.
The director sighed and looked at me. "Can you grunt?"
"Uggh. Arrgh," I said.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Marty, get this guy to Makeup. Rush job."
"I'll take care of it," Kristian said with a smile, happy to
have won the argument. "While they're
working him over, I'll explain what he has to do."
That's how an amazingly ordinary guy like me ended up playing
the part of Kristian Hansen's zombie bodyguard, the only friendly zombie in the
movie. While the makeup experts
plastered my face and arms with layers of paste and powder, Kristian filled me
in. Apparently, I was made of sterner
stuff than the other zombies, because I resisted the urge to eat Kristian's
brains. When he said that, we looked at
each other and grinned. I'm sure we were
both thinking about other parts of his body I could be eating instead. "All you have to do," Kristian explained, "is
be a good zombie. Grunt and moan. Follow me around. Protect me from bad guys. And allow me to perform experiments on you as
I attempt to save the human race from the evil
invaders."
I shrugged. "Sounds
easy."
"Oh," Kristian added, "did I mention that the evil invaders
are Canadians?"
I laughed.
"Canadians?"
"Yeah. Canada has
invaded the United States and used a secret weapon to turn most of the
population into zombies. The only ones
who are still humans are the people who were lucky enough to be underground
when the zombie ray was set off. I was
working with my dad in his underground lab when they blasted us with the zombie
beam. My dad went out to check on things
and was captured by the invaders. Now
it's up to me, a super intelligent teenager, to save the country and repel the
evil Canadians, armed with only my intellect, my grit, and my zombie bodyguard." He smiled and pointed at me.
I raised my eyebrows.
A zombie bodyguard? Okay. I can do that.
Uggh. Arrgh.
The end of AMAZINGLY ORDINARY, Chapter Two