A Real Method Actor - (Futa/F, surprise, female muscle, oversize, weird, cumflation)

Here's another one I intend to work on over the next days and weeks, I hope you enjoy it.

Rapid footsteps clicked and clacked their way down the linoleum of the dark corridor, accompanied by the rustling sound of paper being moved under protest. A door slammed with the heavy, hollow echo of old wood on old wood and the barest whisper of vehement cursing hissed out in the quiet.

“Yeah! Uh huh! Yeah! No! Yeah, I do want that stage set up for Thursday…no, not the Persian Palace set, the Horny Hospital set.”

The clicking footsteps continued through the expanse of dimly lit back of house.

“Yeah! Horny Hospital, Thursday; our slot is from four to nine thirty. Yeah, it’s called Futa Surprise. What? Oh, F-U-T-A. Ok, got it, see you then.”

Another door slammed and the steps skittered before resuming the regular click clack of earlier, the swearing growing louder and more distinct for a second.

The voice returned once more, “Yeah, hi, Don? Yeah, I’ve got a scene we need to film for Muscle Maidens in Estrus. What, estrus? Yeah, it’s like when a dog wants to fuck and stuff, it’s medical. You got a set?”

The sounds of the steps grew louder as the surface changes from the linoleum to something harder and less forgiving.

“Oh, cool, you’ve got a hospital set ready for later this week? Really? Ok then. Yeah, we’ll need an evening slot…what? Oh yeah, sixteen hundred hours? Whatever; anyway, we get it from then onwards, right? The day? Yeah, call it Thursday.”

Charlene felt a bit out of her depth as she clutched the creased paper to her broad chest, looking up at the blocky outline of the Rimshot Studios building. The building seemed to be a featureless expanse of grey blocks apart from a small wooden door on the corner with a photocopy taped to it that said, ‘Stage Door’.

Her huge arm swelled mightily as she reached up to brush a hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind an ear, the swell of her biceps caressing her earlobe as it flexed. She knew that the door would not be easy. They never were these days.

As she walked over to it, she willed the smallness of the thing to a be a trick of perspective, some kind of optical illusion that hid a bigger, more spacious door. It wasn’t. Even six feet of door meant the lintel only came up to her nose. Charlene thought she had quite nice nose. Her opinion of the door however, was falling rapidly.

With a duck of her head, she turned and grasped the handle, gently pushing the door off of the latch and letting it swing open. The corridor inside was simple, but well lit and she could see it went on for some while before turning left and out of site. Clothes straining valiantly, she ducked her head inside and tried to take a step. Her bulging thigh stopped when it his the door jamb, wedged against her other hugely muscled thigh and still determinedly outside of the building.