Scene 29

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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SCENE 29
[8 May 96]
by Alpenhorn

Posted somewhere in 1997, presumably now defunct.
Posted to y!gallery in 2007

Mostly my job seems routine and hectic. Sure, I can often see movie stars (and even great actors) from a distance. But that is no longer much of a thrill. But once in a great while something amazing comes my way. That makes all the routine work seem worth it.

It is one of these special incidents that I am reporting here. It happened a few years ago. Many of the details have been omitted (and a few others changed) in order to protect the privacy, reputation, or freedom of those involved--including me.

I do makeup in Hollywood. Sometimes you may be able to see my name in the end-credits of a movie. But more often you won't see me at all, since the credits will include only the makeup supervisor.

Makeup was not my first choice of career. In college, I had plans to become the next Orson Welles. But getting a start in Hollywood is not easy. After futile attempts to break into the business from several angles, I fell back on makeup. My mother had owned a 'beauty parlor' (as they were called back then), and I was underfoot there beginning at about the age of two. So I knew a thing or two about makeup. After doing makeup on a few really low-budget films, my work was good enough to get me onto the staff of films with larger budgets. But still, after almost ten years, I am at the bottom of the heap. So far, doing makeup has not provided any opportunities to move on to other parts of the biz.

In big-budget movies, the major stars may each have an individual makeup artist (perhaps in addition to a hair stylist). Then, for the less-important stars, there may be makeup people doing three or four actors. Finally, for the minor speaking parts, there will be makeup people each taking care of large numbers of actors, since most of them will not have close-up shots needing detailed work.

Take the movie I am going to describe here. (No names, please.) The bottom-rung makeup was handled just by Martha and me. On a typical day, we each had around five serious makeup jobs and perhaps up to 20 minimal jobs. What had to be done varied from day to day, depending on what scenes were to be shot. Usually not all of the actors had to be ready at the same time, so they were scheduled to come in at certain times during the morning (and sometimes returned later in the day, if they were needed in a second scene).

Sometimes (especially when I have a 'special' actor to do) I tell them some little fibs. For example, when I complete the makeup job, I may take one or more Polaroid photos of the results, telling the actor that this will help me match the makeup if we have to the same scene (or a similar scene) in the future. Another fib I tell them is that makeup artists are jealous of their professional secrets, so they should not discuss my techniques with any other makeup artists in their future careers. This may help keep my 'unorthodox' methods from coming to light and getting me kicked out of the trade.

Back to the story. For the movie I am telling you about, one of my subjects was a really cute boy. A minor 'teen idol'--the teen magazines might have mentioned his name three or four times that year, and perhaps published a picture once. (I have noticed since that time that he has become a *lot* more prominent. But that is not part of this narrative.) Because I had a 'crush' on him, I would try to arrange that he was the last one to come in for early-morning makeup.

Now, for some movies the makeup people all share one large room. But in this particular movie the facilities were arranged so that I had my own individual room. There was a mirror on one wall, with the proper lighting; a counter where I kept the 'tools of the trade'; and a large leather swivel-chair for the subject. There was also a couch along one wall, where those next in line for makeup would sit, or others talking to the actors. Since all child actors must have a parent (or equivalent) on the set, parents would often come with the child actors, sit there on my couch, and drink my tea. The boy in this story always had his mother on the set, and I got to know her since she came to the makeup sessions about half the time.

I remember the first time I had to do serious makeup (makeup suitable for a close-up shot) for the boy. Like many child actors (especially boys), he questioned the need for makeup at all. I gave him the usual reasons: "The cameras and lights they will be using would make you look abnormal--pale like a corpse--so we need to brighten up your colour." The boy was blond, so I gave him the Michael Caine story. (Was it really Caine? I suppose if I keep using this, I should look up the correct name for it.) "He once said that he owes any success as a leading man to the makeup artists. Since he has blond eye-lashes, like you do, his eyes don't seem compelling in a close-up. So he said he owes his stardom to mascara, which gave his eyes a hypnotic, romantic appearance." Or a third reason for makeup: "You're about 13 now, aren't you?" (His mother confirmed it.) "Well, you will be getting acne now and then." (When his mother noted that he was already starting to get some, he was clearly annoyed with her. After that she shut up.) "Well, acne varies from day to day. We don't want it apparently jumping around your face when consecutive scenes are filmed on different days. So I do my best to make it invisible." (I didn't give him my argument against many movie makeup artists: Excessive makeup, such as lipstick, for men or even for women who are playing the part of someone not wearing makeup. I think it is often overdone.)

The actor in my story (no names, please) was a delight to work on. He would relax when I told him to; he had no earrings to work around; his simple short hair style was in no danger from my work; he was not shaving yet, so there was no beard to cover. And he had a nicely cleft chin. I remarked about it once to him, saying how far Kirk Douglas had gone with his chin. To take advantage of the cleft in the chin, I would use a darker shade of makeup to emphasise it with a shadow effect.

Most times when I did his makeup, I had only to do his face and neck; and sometimes the arms (when he would be wearing short sleeves); I noticed that his arms were rather thin--not muscular. But I remember vividly having to do more makeup for one scene. It was to be a scene where some boys were playing basketball. He was to wear cut-off jeans and a T-shirt; then during the scene he was to take off the shirt. So I asked him to stand in the space beside the chair, while I sat on a low stool to do his legs. What little hair there was on his legs was blond, so it was invisible, and no problem.

Then I stood up and asked him to take off the shirt. As he pulled it over his head, I saw no sign of hair, either on the chest or under the arms. No makeup problems there. I covered some acne on his back, the same way as on the face. As I added a little emphasis for the nipples, he laughed because it tickled. His belly button was an 'innie', so I used a darker shade of makeup for emphasis; I used my pinkie to put it in, making the boy jerk in surprise, then he laughed again. I noted he was a bit pudgy in the front. "In order to grow up into a teen idol, you will have to start working out a bit," I said. "Get your arms bulked up and your tummy flattened down." His mother's remark led me to believe that I was not the first to tell him this. And nowadays I can see in his newer movies that he has toned up quite well, indeed.

Another day there was a scene where he was to get wet in a rainstorm. I had planned up one of my little fibs for that session. I told him that the makeup I normally use, which is applied mostly with a brush, would not withstand getting wet. So I would have to use another makeup base that would have to be massaged into the skin. That was only a 'face, neck, and arms' day, but I enjoyed applying the makeup more than ever. But the real reason for this fib was preparation for 'Scene 29', which was to come up a bit later.

The 'climax' (so to speak) of this little story is Scene 29. This was a junior-high-school shower scene. The scene was early in the movie, but filmed only midway through the shooting schedule. Some of the boys were to be nude--it was a closed set with only the actors and the essential crew, so no mothers were to be present. Two of my actors were to be in the scene. One of them would only be seen in the background, so I took care of him easily. The other was my favourite boy. I made sure he was the last one on my schedule for the scene. He arrived (unfortunately with his mother) right on time. His mother had brought a fuzzy bathrobe for him to wear while the makeup dried, and between takes on the set. And a small flight-bag to hold his clothes. He was wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt.

First I had him sit in the chair while I did the face, neck, and arms. Since he would get wet, my fib about massage went over without question. Then I had him take off his shoes, and I prepared his feet. Why do kids never clip their toenails? I had to do it for him. I took my time on the feet, including some extra tickling, anticipating what would come later.

Next I asked him to stand in the space beside the chair and take off the shirt, so I could do his upper body. He threw the shirt over the swivel-chair. This was the first time for me to do the massage of his back, chest, and tummy. I wondered if he (or his mother) would notice how fast my heart was beating. I was careful to breathe normally. And I gave him a few extra tickles on his sides, making him laugh again.

Then I asked him to take off the jeans. Under them I found he was wearing some light-blue cotton briefs with dark-blue waistband. He threw the jeans also onto the chair. I sat on my low stool and did his legs. This time all the way up to the *very* top, and with massage. I had already seen, even in the jeans, that he had a nicely rounded bum. Now it was confirmed. But in the front of the briefs I could not tell much; they seemed to be rather loose. While he was standing there wearing just the briefs, a few people walked by the room in the hallway outside, as was always happening. But now I thought perhaps some of them went by more than once to look in through the open doorway. I realised then that I should have closed the door first. Fortunately, both the boy and his mother were facing away from the door, so they did not know about my lapse.

Finally I was ready for the ultimate. "Now we will need to remove the shorts," I said. "Do you want your mother inside or out?" After a short glance in her direction, she volunteered to leave. "I won't be able to go to the shooting anyway," she said, "so I will run some errands. Good luck today, Sweety." (I could tell the boy did not like to be called 'Sweety' where I could hear.) She left, and I closed and locked the door. I positioned my stool directly behind him and said, "Off with them." He began to pull them down. "Do you want them here around my thighs, or completely off?" he asked. I lied, "I don't care; whichever you prefer." He took them off and threw them onto the chair with the other clothes.

Locked in a room alone with my boy idol! And he was completely naked!! As I said at the start, sometimes something amazing comes my way!

Calm down! I am a professional. And if I got too far out of line, his mother was sure to hear about it in the evening.

I began on his butt. I said before it was nicely rounded. But now I could see it was spectacular. Since he obviously hadn't been working out, this must be its natural shape. "First, we do these cheeks," I began. "They are done slightly rosy in the same way as your other cheeks." What a stupid joke; I must try not to show how nervous I was. 'Tan lines,' I thought. 'This will require more makeup to eliminate them. Or--wait a minute--I'm the makeup artist. Maybe the character should ALSO have tan lines.' So I asked the boy. We decided to keep them. So in fact I used the makeup to make the tan lines even more pronounced. (Personally, I find tan lines very sexy.) After that I went on, "Now, to emphasise the crack with a shadow effect, we will use a darker shade." As I did this, he squealed at the unexpected hands massaging him there. "And also darker under the bottom. These nicely rounded babies should excite a few of the pre-teen girls coming to see the movie!"

"Sometimes I don't think I want an audience looking at my body that way," he commented. I stopped rubbing and sat back. "You know, if you have doubts the producers will provide a stand-in for this scene." He laughed, "I only said 'sometimes'-- most of the time I am delighted by the thought. My mother and I discussed it with some of the production people, and we decided to go ahead. It is exhilarating to contemplate. I don't think I have been this geared-up since my first screen test." I said, "I'm glad to hear it," and finished the buttocks with a tweak between the legs. He started, then laughed.

"Okay, now turn around toward me. As you probably know, the scene is only supposed to show you from the back, but the director asked me to get the front ready just in case." Actually, that was my biggest fib yet! (The director wouldn't deign to talk to me. Usually I got my instructions from an A.D. And even then he would only send them to me by fax or e-mail.) The boy turned. At that moment, he became my favourite boy in all the world! Fortunately I was sitting down, or my knees would have given out.

Have you ever had the impression that time has stopped? I don't know how long I held my breath at the sight, but it must not have been as long as it seemed, because the boy didn't seem to notice anything strange.

The penis was shorter than I had expected. 'A pudgy willy, to go with a pudgy tummy,' I thought to myself. But then I realised that, at 13, he still had quite a bit of growing to do. The foreskin ended in a small 'nipple', off to one side. The testicles were nicely large. My meager knowledge of boyhood development reminded me that this enlargement is often the first sign of puberty, even before the growth spurt. The scrotum was fairly tight-- at least today, and under these circumstances--holding the balls to the front, and their support in turn helped the shaft of the penis to incline outward as well. The genitalia were a bit brownish in colour, especially compared to the untanned nearby skin.

"Why do I need makeup down there?" he asked, perhaps to hide his own nervousness. "Well, with no makeup the camera may seem to show a a withered, limp, brownish mass. Instead, we want to have the impression that 'it' is vibrant, pink, firm, and alive." Actually, since this was my first male nude job, I was making it up. Genital makeup is not something they teach in cosmetology school! (I had done some women's nude makeup, back when I was doing low-budget slasher movies.)

"My instructions are to de-emphasise the pubic hair," another fib. "That way you look younger. But since yours is blond that is no problem." In fact, there was only some soft wispy hair immediately around the base of the tool.

I paused, gathering courage for the next fib. "Okay, since you will be getting wet, we need to massage the makeup base in. Now there is a choice." (Maybe I should teach this course in cosmetology school, I thought.) "If I start to massage, and you get an erection," (the boy seemed to be holding his breath) "then I pretend not to notice, you pretend not to notice, I get embarrassed, you get embarrassed, and we have a difficult situation. Or, on the other hand, we could treat the erection as intentional--actually it would be easier to massage the makeup into the skin of your penis if it is hard. Which do you prefer?" He whispered, "The second."

I waited a bit. Nothing. "Do you want me to do it?" He did not seem to know what I meant. I got some mineral oil from my drawer and went to work using long, slow strokes. After a while we had the firmness we wanted. The pinkish head could just be glimpsed peeking from the foreskin. I quickly applied the makeup, trying my best to achieve the 'vibrant, pink, firm, and alive' effect I had proposed. The scrotum had to be brightened up, too, and I added a shadow effect for emphasised roundness. Perhaps in all it took less than a minute, but I am likely to remember that minute to my dying day. I finished with a few tickles to the balls. He was getting to sound like he enjoyed my tickling.

"That's it!" I said as I gave him a slap on the butt (not only to feel him once more, but also to watch his stiff rod vibrate back and forth). "Put on your bathrobe and wait a few minutes for 'it' to go down." He put it on. And he put his clothes into the flight bag he had brought. "Can I leave now?" Time for the last fib. "No, we still have to do the Polaroids after the erection goes down." His eyes widened. "What? Naked?" I tried to calm him. "Of course. You know the reasons. Besides, you will soon be just as naked on the Big Screen. And I promise not to show them to anyone." He paused. One more objection. "But there is only today for this scene, so we won't have to do it again." Fib away... "There is always the possibility that a scene will need to be re-done later if it comes out wrong."

So I got some great photos. Front, back, and angles. No, they are not for sale--I have kept my word never to show them to anyone else.

After that, the makeup for that movie was mostly routine. I would only see my favourite boy a few more times. But I would dream about Scene 29.

And then--miracle of miracles--near the end of the shooting schedule, word came down (or up--anyway, by fax) that Scene 29 needed more work. So I got to do it all over again.

This time my favourite boy did not bring his mother at all. And I remembered to close and lock the door before he started to disrobe.

We did everything in the same order. I got into a sort of rhythm--I would apply the makeup to a portion of his body, and when I finished I would add a little tickle--under the chin; behind the ear; soles of the feet; lightly on the ribs; and so on. When I did this I would say, "Tickle tickle!" as playfully as possible. He would laugh.

When I finally got to the genitals, they were even more glorious than I remembered. I noticed how his cock waggled back and forth as he turned around to face me. I was seated on the low stool, so that wonderful exhibition was just centimetres from my face. I still could not tell if he suspected my extra interest, but he made no remark.

As I reached for the mineral oil, he said, "No need for that. I can do it myself. I've been practising." (He never told me how, or with whom, he had been practising.) He got a far-away look in his eyes. I watched in amazement as his willy began to lengthen. Then to rise. It moved upward in a series of jerks, timed with his heartbeat. (And with mine.) Full erection, pointing right up into my eyes, in an amazingly short time. I was flabbergasted. But then I thought to myself, 'If this kid can get tears to flow on demand by thinking the right thoughts, then why not this?'

It was time to massage in the makeup. I thoroughly 'felt up' the balls as I worked there, moving them side to side, apart and together, around in circles. Then the shaft. It was thinner near the base, wider just before the head. And hard! Older folks like me forget what the 'hard' in 'hard-on' means. It was like massaging a carrot. If moved a bit out of position, it would snap back as soon as it was released. I took out the photo and compared with it as I restored the 'vibrant, pink, firm, and alive' colouring (even though my memory was crystal clear on it). When I held my fingers still, I could feel his penis throbbing with his heartbeat. I finished with the makeup. I said "Tickle tickle!" as usual, while I boldly pulled the foreskin back with finger and thumb of one hand and ran a fingernail of the other hand along the most sensitive part. My favourite subject gasped and lurched up onto his tiptoes.

"All done," I said reluctantly. "Now we can wait a bit and take the photos." He frowned (but was it a bit playful?) and asked, "Even today? Shooting is nearly done." I insisted, "Yes, today like every day." I pointed to call his attention to his engorged beauty sticking up. "How long for you to 'subside'?" Then he surprised me: "Why wait--wouldn't a photo while I'm still 'up' like this make it easier to match next time?" He illustrated the question by thrusting his hips, so that the lovely item was practically in my face. After a pause to consider (no, not really), and to stare at it for a few more seconds, I replied, "No, photos like that could get me arrested for Kiddy Porn." The boy thought that was weird.

He said, "Well, no waiting this time. I practised this part, too." I wondered what to expect now. He clutched his hands together behind his back, perhaps to keep them from doing things of their own accord. He got the far-away look in his eyes. Soon his scrotum contracted a bit more, and his body began making a slight rhythmic jerking. He was trying to hold still during the orgasm, and did a remarkable job of it. At the end he let out a few grunts, though. I suppose he was still too young for an ejaculation, but as his body relaxed, I saw a single round droplet perched neatly atop the end of the penis. The entire performance had occured only centimetres from my eyes. Only great self-control kept me from leaning forward and taking the droplet onto my tongue. But instead I reached to my supplies, got a small square of blotting paper, and touched the droplet lightly with it. The paper absorbed the liquid, which formed a small irregular dark spot.

True to his word, his dick was now limp enough for photographs. But there was an extra sparkle in his eyes as I took them. I wonder whether I needed to be concerned about his sensing my voyeurism--perhaps he was acting as an exhibitionist, either intentionally or instinctively.

A final note: Much later, when I saw the finished movie, Scene 29 had been eliminated completely. Not a trace. Too bad. Oh well, at least I still have my Polaroids.

When the filming had ended, there was the traditional wrap party. The bigwigs drank too much and talked loudly, while the little people like me politely stood by the walls and gawked. But the boy made a point to come over and see me. "Thanks for everything!" What a polite boy--the director never thanked me; and none of my other actors thanked me. He went on, "I hope we can work together again some time, Miss Webb." I responded, "There's no need to be so formal. Call me Eve. After all, we know each other pretty well, don't we?" He turned on his famous million-watt smile and winked. "Bye, Eve!" My knees almost gave out. "Bye, Sweety," I whispered.

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