As dawn broke over New Jersey, the sun spilled golden light into the sleek apartment of Mike, now a well-known bodybuilder and porn star. He lay sprawled across his bed, the sound of his alarm blending with the distant hum of traffic outside. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to: rise early, hit the gym, and then head to the studio in Brooklyn for another day of filming. Today, however, felt different. The studio had arranged for transportation, a luxury Mike hadn't expected but was grateful for. He quickly showered, the water cascading over his muscular frame, washing away sleep and replacing it with a surge of energy. He dressed in a fitted black tank top and gym shorts, his physique on full display, the result of countless hours spent sculpting his body. As he laced up his sneakers, Mike took a moment to look at himself in the mirror.
This wasn't just any job; he worked at a boutique porn studio that had gained a reputation for its artistic and controversial approach to adult film. He'd been drawn to the place not only for the paycheck but also for the chance to collaborate with talented individuals who shared his passion for pushing boundaries while satisfying his personal masochistic urges that he had grappled with since puberty. He though back to how he would get an erection in class when he got paper cuts on his finger and would press his finger against the desk until it throbbed. Pain excited him and he was no longer running away from it but using his quirk to his advantage.
When the doorbell rang, Mike grabbed his gym bag and headed to the door. A sleek black SUV waited outside, the driver stepping out with a friendly smile. "You must be Mike," the driver said, extending a hand. "I'm Adam. I'll be taking you to the studio today." "Thanks, man," Mike replied, shaking his hand and sliding into the backseat. As the car pulled away from his apartment, he glanced out the window, watching the streets of New Jersey blur past. The quiet morning was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the city he was about to enter.
With each passing mile, Mike watched the scenery change from suburban calm to urban bustle, the towering skyline of Manhattan gradually coming into view. The car moved smoothly onto the George Washington Bridge, the Hudson River shimmering below, a stark contrast to the heaviness in his chest. He thought about the old warehouse that housed the studio in Brooklyn--once a gritty industrial space, now transformed into a vibrant hub of creativity, yet still bearing remnants of its past. As they crossed into Brooklyn, the architecture shifted to a blend of modern lofts and preserved brick buildings, the streets becoming narrower and filled with the buzz of artists. The driver pulled up to the studio, the warehouse looming ahead, its weathered facade hinting at the stories held within.
Mike entered the Brooklyn studio, greeted by the familiar hum of equipment and chatter. The atmosphere was charged, a mix of excitement and nervous energy as the crew prepared for the day's shoot. He made his way to the back room, where the production team was setting up lights and cameras. "Hey, muscle boy!" called out Eliana, one of the directors who had an infectious energy. "Ready to flex those skills?"
Mike grinned, feeling a rush of adrenaline. "Always. What's the theme today?" He loved how Eliana approached adult film with an artistic lens. As they discussed the shoot, he felt a surge of excitement. This was more than a job; it was a canvas for expression of the darkest desires the film crew could conceive which excited him more and more as he grew accustomed to this gig.
Mike stood nervously in the center of the set, naked. Despite his intimidating physique, there was a palpable tension in his stance. He glanced at the table beside him, where an assortment of food items including a watermelon and an uncooked thanksgiving turkey. "Ready, Mike?" Greg asked, his tone more coaxing than reassuring. Mike nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I'm ready."
"Fantastic. Places, everyone!" The lights dimmed slightly, and the camera zoomed in on Mike's face. His brown eyes were wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The scene was set for something far more humiliating than he had ever experienced before. He first stood before the large round, watermelon, its green skin contrasting sharply with the sterile wooden backdrop of the set.
"Alright, Mike, you know the drill. Let's see that energy!" Mike nodded, his dark eyes locked on the watermelon. He could feel the eyes of the crew on him, but he was used to it. This was just another day at work, even if the work was more unconventional than most. He flexed his fingers, feeling the tension in his muscles, and took a deep breath. The director's voice cut through the silence again. "Remember, we need this to look natural, like it's no big deal for you to be doing this. Got it?"
Mike smirked, a hint of mischief in his expression. "Yeah, I got it. Just another fruit in the basket, right?" The crew chuckled nervously, and the director waved them off. "Alright, places everyone. Mike moved with purpose, his body coiling with energy. He stood beside the watermelon, his hands tracing the curves of the fruit. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, feeling the cool, damp surface beneath his touch. The scent of fresh melon filled his nostrils, mingling with the faint smell of sweat from the heat of the lights.
He glanced up at the camera, a challenge in his gaze, and then leaned down. "Come on, Mike, show us what you've got," the director's voice urged, almost like a whisper in his ear. Mike's breathing quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to focus, to channel all his energy into this one act. With a grunt, he positioned himself over the watermelon, his cock hard and throbbing between his legs. He could feel the cool, slick surface pressing against his heated flesh, a contrast that only heightened his arousal.
"Fuck, this feels weird," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. But there was a part of him that reveled in the oddity, in the taboo nature of what he was about to do. "Go on, Mike, don't hold back," the director coaxed, his voice low and urgent. With a sharp intake of breath, Mike thrust forward, his cock sliding into the watermelon with a wet, squelching sound. The sensation was indescribable, a mixture of resistance and give that sent shivers down his spine. Juice splattered around him, dribbling down his shaft and onto the floor below.
"Fuck, yeah!" Mike groaned, his body tensing as he pushed deeper into the melon. The warmth of his own body contrasted with the coolness of the fruit, creating a sensory overload that left him dizzy with desire. The director's voice came through the megaphone again, barely audible over the sound of Mike's heavy breathing. "Keep going, Mike. Show us your best move."
Mike obliged, pulling back slowly before slamming himself forward again. Each thrust was met with a burst of juice, the melon splattering against his groin and thighs. The scent of fresh fruit mingled with the earthy musk of his arousal, creating an intoxicating blend that made his head swim. "Oh, fuck, this is... different," Mike panted, his voice ragged with exertion. But there was something undeniably thrilling about it, something that made his cock twitch with excitement.
He could feel the melon beginning to yield under his relentless thrusts, the once-firm flesh softening and giving way. Juice flowed freely now, pooling around his knees and dripping onto the floor. The sound of sloshing liquid filled the room, a rhythmic accompaniment to his movements.
"Ah, fuck! Fuck!" Mike screamed, his voice echoing through the studio. The sensation was overwhelming, a chaotic mix of pleasure and desperation that he could hardly contain. His body shook with the force of his orgasm, his cock pulsing inside the melon as waves of ecstasy washed over him. Mike let out a sigh and the director yelled "Good work!" Now lets try the turkey in an hour!
In the interlude period Mike was injected again with Trimix to keep himself hard and randy. He had grown accustomed to this ritual but to him it always seemed so unnatural, invasive and artificial. It made him feel like a "sex toy". But it was part of the deal so he never refused an injection and his penis was quite happy with all the attention.
An hour later everyone geared up for the next scene involving the turkey. "This is going to be really humiliating" Mike thought to himself as he removed his robe, taking a deep breath as he looked over at the table. "Okay, Mike, I want you to get into character." The director waved his hand about. "I want you to look upon this magnificent bird as if it was the juiciest pussy you had ever seen!" Mike grimaced at the thought but he knew he had to go all in on this to impress Greg, one of the more demanding directors in the studio. "This is not a hard scene, man, you can do it!" Greg encouraged.
"Now get really verbal this time Mike," Greg urged. "Yes sir," Mike said keeping with the Domme-sub dynamic they had established during week one. Mike walked up to the table and started stroking his hard trimix infused cock licking his lips as he looked down at the bird. "Oh fuck yeah, I always wanted to do this" he mumbled to himself as he positioned his cock inside the turkey's gaping opening. "Feels good on my cock!" Mike looked to the director for approval only to get screamed at "Verbal, Mike! Verbal! Do it like you mean it!" Mike looked back down at the turkey, eyes wide, his hair wild.
"Ahhh...it's cold....Oh!" The turkey's insides were slimy and cool. As his cock entered and you started hearing the swish of meat against meat. Mike fucked the turkey harder, the bird's skin flaps slapping against his thighs "Ahh you are so much tighter than that fat bitch I was in yesterday..." Mike said while humping the dead animal. As Mike pushed his way deeper into the turkey's cloaca, the director shouted out "That's right Mike...really sell it." He then told Mike to turn the bird around and lift it up.
"Ahh its so good..." Mike grunted and moaning as he thrusted into the turkey's cavity with vigor. He knew he had to go for longer this time so he tried to keep talking as he worked up a sweat, trying to be convincing to the cameras that he was enjoying this while also at some point working himself to an actual climax. He had never felt so degraded before. "...and its so tight!" Greg stood back for a moment "You're a fucking pervert, aren't you Mike?" "Oh yeah...yeah...oh it feels so good" Mike replied. He moaned and whimpered while Greg filmed close ups of the turkey's opening swallowing Mike's shaft.
"Oh...Ohh!" Mike continued thrusting in and out of the turkey, making lewd wet sounds as the turkey's flesh gave way to his hard throbbing cock. His ass cheeks clenched as he felt the turkey's insides pressed up against his member. "I fucking love a dead bird, its so much better than those tight twinks" "Keep it up!" Greg barked in the background. "You're a real-life turkey stuffer!" Mike continued to moan and grunt. "Oh it feels so good...fuckin turkey!"
"Yeah, fuck the bird" the crew yelled. Mike's eyes fluttered shut as he struggled to reach an orgasm. "I might have to fake this" He thought to himself. He was trying to pretend it was his favorite celebrity and not a giant bird. Yet there was a big difference between Mike's mind and his cock. It was still exciting for Mike to fuck something. At that moment, Greg yelled cut and walked over. "I want your dick soaking wet and throbbing like it's a pussy. Understand?" "Yes Sir" Mike groaned.
Three hours later Greg called cut as Mike finished emptying his nuts into the turkey's asshole, sweat droplets accumulating on the tips of his spikey, greasy hair. It was the longest three hours of his life as he finally came and collapsed on the bird. "What the fuck is wrong with you Mike? I thought you had more passion for this." Greg was not happy, and rightfully so.