THE HOLY AVENGER
Back in his dressing room, the Holy Avenger stretched and yawned. Another boring day of total bullshit. He was still amazed that the syndicate would buy such crap. Lousy dialogue, lousy stories, really really crappy production values.
He looked around at the ugly little cubicle. Not even his own toilet. The only comfort was a couch, too small for his big frame to stretch out on, and a door that locked.
And when he needed to piss, like right now, getting out of the spandex costume was a bitch. He pulled back the hood with its ridiculous attached wig and rubbed his sweaty hair. Reaching the back zipper was more problematic, and he stepped into the dreary corridor to flag down a passing flunky.
Shit. The corridor was empty. He could hear voices in the women’s changing room and lumbered down there.
There was only one person in the room, the little whore that had just been cast as the high school student chattering vacuously on her mobile. What did the casting director think teenagers looked like? The little bitch was obviously well over 21, with a voice like a chipmunk on helium. On the other hand, those boobs were… okay, probably fake, but pretty spectacular especially in the bondage costume she wore for this week’s episode.
“Gimme a hand here, will ya, Tiffany?”
“Oh, yes, sir! But it’s Minou.”
“Sorry, Minou.” He treated her to his best sexy smile. “Tiffany was the last actress playing your part. We go through a lot of ‘em.”
“What happened to her, sir?”
As it happened she had gotten herself pregnant, but the Holy Avenger decided keeping the chipmunk nervous was probably more useful.
“She went all diva on us. We’re a team here. We work together to do the best job we can. No place for egos.”
“Yes, sir. We’re doing the Lord’s work, just like the show title says.”
Shit. One of those. And he still needed to pee. He was getting piss-proud and the spandex was getting more and more uncomfortable.
“Could you unzip me at the back? It’s a little hard to reach and I’m stiff from some stunt work yesterday.” And even more stiff from looking at those boobs.
She had to stretch to reach the fastening at his shoulder. How tall was this bitch? She couldn’t be over five feet. Maybe that was why she was cast. “Small” equated with “young” in the casting director’s mind. Nice little hands though and not too shy to unzip an almost perfect stranger. Not too fast, remember that “Lord’s work” bit.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He shrugged the costume off his shoulders and exposed his arms. His biceps were pretty spectacular and the little girls tended to be impressed. His torso not so much. Sometimes spandex was a blessing. Still, it might be getting time to have a new costume made. Well, she wasn’t blushing and her little hands did seem to linger a bit at the base of the zipper.
Holding the costume up over his chest, he renewed the sexy grin and left. Heading for the toilet, he pulled the costume down, his back still looked good, it was just those damn moobs. He was pretty sure she was watching his passage.
Back in the dressing room, he found the script for the next episode. Garbage as usual, but at one point he would pick the chipmunk up and carry her a few steps. Nice. He could probably cop a feel of her ass, maybe even those boobies. The syndicate insisted that all the actresses wear dresses with full skirts, yet another example of how completely out of touch they were. And the little whore could get her own feel of his biceps. This could be interesting.
He pulled off the costume and sniffed at the pits and crotch then attached a note with a safety pin “DRY CLEANING PLEASE!!!” and hung it over the mirror. With any luck, the showrunner would allow the expense. Even washing the thing would help everyone feel more comfortable. He shuddered to remember the location shooting last summer when that showrunner refused to have any costumes cleaned substituting a can of Febreeze in the costume department. That ended when Devilwills, whose latex costume was even more rank than his own, came down with an allergic reaction that turned him redder than the heavy makeup he wore in character.
He pulled on his Dockers and polo shirt, then added the leather jacket and grabbed his helmet. As he headed for his motorcycle he spotted the little actress at the bus stop.
“Want a lift?” he called.
“I’m quite a ways away.”
“That’s okay. I don’t have anything on for the rest of the day anyhow.”
She climbed on behind him, circling her thin arms around his trunk. They were too short to complete the circle.
“Hold tight.” Yep, as she pressed closer, he could feel the hard implants in her breasts. No way was a skinny little thing that this one gonna have such enormous tits naturally.
“Where are we heading?” She gave him directions and he headed for the freeway.
With her tits pressed into his back, he could feel his cock filling. Her hands moved on his trunk and he wasn’t sure if it was for balance or if she was checking him out. He hoped for the latter. The extras they’d been hiring lately were jailbait and whoever knocked up Tiffany, it hadn’t been him. He’d thought it might be Demonwills until he saw him in the mens room giving a blowjob to one of the electrical grips.
Not his problem.
“That’s it,” she said.
“The apartment building?”
“No the house next door.”
“Do you live with friends?”
“It’s mine. I got it as my divorce settlement.”