A Taste of Honey

byHeavy Hands©

Alternate ending to the movie "Honey." I don't know why they didn't do this originally.


"Look, I don't know, I mean, a job's a job, right?" Honey Daniels asked hesitantly. Things hadn't been going great financially, and with Michael blacklisting her, she was lucky to even get to the audition for most video shoots.

"Trust me," Chaz replied, sipping her Kahlua, "it's no big. I think my brother used to know a guy who worked at that place, and he seemed pretty cool. You can't expect every job to be part of the dream." The club was kickin' tonight, but her friend seemed too pre-occupied to notice. Nobody seemed too pre-occupied to notice her, though... she stood out as ever, in a baby blue tank top and close-fitting black jeans. She'd already done her hair and make-up for the shoot, and even Chaz had to admit that she looked hot.

"I guess so." Honey bit her lip. The ad had said sexy dancers wanted, and she'd only found it this morning, so she hadn't had time to ring up for details. But if she didn't get the money, the storefront she had a deposit down on would go back on the market, and she'd lose her chance to help the kids.

Chaz glanced at the big clock on the wall and leaned over. "Speaking of which, weren't you supposed to be gone by now?"

"Oh, right!" She jumped from her seat, but too quickly, and her drink slopped onto the front of her shirt. It ran in rivulets down her tight, lean stomach, dripping off her dark bronze skin. "Damn!" But there wasn't anything to do about it, so she jogged through the crowd of people, went out the back door, and caught a taxi over to the venue.

She stepped out of the taxi, having attempted to clean her top to no avail, and walked quickly up to the big double doors. The place looked like a warehouse, which further increased her doubts about it... still, she pulled open one of the heavy doors, and walked in.

The warehouse looked like it was divided into two parts, and she was in the smaller end now. To the left were change rooms, and to the right a few cameras were being set up.

It was dark, but she could make out people sitting at a desk a few meters in front of her, and she walked up. Three people sat on the far side: the first a large hairy man, possibly Russian, the second a stunning blonde beauty, and the third a small nondescript man with glasses. She put on a smile that was brighter than she felt.

"I'm here for the audition, I spilt on my shirt, so I'd need to change into something -"

"Blood type", the burly Russian asked in a thick accent.


"Vhat is your blood type." He looked at her without seeing her, bored, rheumy eyes.

"Umm... O-Hh, I think."

The three suddenly all sat up straight in their chairs, but it was the small man who spoke first, quietly, but with a voice that demanded attention.

"That's quite a rare blood type, young lady. Do you know that only one person in approximately one million in the United States has that blood type?"

"I... I guess, I was told it was pretty rare."

"More than rare." The man's eyes gleamed.

The woman stood and said with a big smile on her face, "You're in. Congratulations. Please come over to the changing rooms and get changed for the video."

Honey was glad, but cautiously so. "You don't want to see me dance?"

"I'm sure you’re fine," the blonde replied, taking her gently by the arm and walking her over. They stepped through the door and the woman closed it behind them.

"Look", Honey protested as the woman sorted through piles of clothes, most of it rather revealing, "I'd like to know a little more about what I'll actually be doing. I don't want to be - "

"Just dancing, dear. It'll all be fine."

"But you didn't see me dance!"

The woman picked out a top and skirt, gave them to Honey and led her over to a stall, speaking courtesies and allaying fears. She closed the door, and Honey looked at the close. The top was a sheer, plastic boob-tube type of thing, while the miniskirt seemed to be made of similar material. Even though they were sheer, they did seem very sleek and sexy. She undressed, stepped into the skirt, then slipped the top on.

She walked out and smiled hopefully at the woman. "No", the blonde said, "That just won't work", looking at Honey's bra and panties beneath her clothes. "The underclothes will have to go."

"No way." She knew that this shoot would be sleazy.

"You couldn't pay me enough to wear something like that!" Honey walked back into the stall, preparing to change back into her soiled clothes.

"So thirty thousand dollars wouldn't be enough?" the woman asked casually.

Honey froze. Thirty thousand could pay for the rest of the down payment easily, with plenty to spare for immediate restoration. She argued with herself silently for a few minutes, but that amount of money would be too good.

"I don't know", she said. "I guess... I guess I'll try it." She took the plastic clothes off, and then slipped off her bra, her breasts bouncing free. They weren't large, but they definitely weren't small either, and with most clothes she didn't really need to wear a bra. Her nipples were small and dark, and stiff from the cold room.

She slipped her panties off as well, baring her shaved crotch, before putting the plastic clothes back on. They felt quite good against her bare skin, she had to admit.

She stepped back out, looking like a goddess to the blonde, but the older woman managed to keep her cool.

"You can almost see my nipples!" Honey exclaimed, looking down at herself. The woman could see them quite clearly, but she kept it to herself; because of the way the costume was made, the angle at which you looked determined how much you saw.

"Look, the way the cameras work, they won't be able to see anything through it," the woman coerced.

"I don't know... are you sure?"


"Well... okay then."

The woman led Honey out of the changing rooms into the other end of the warehouse.


The cameras were set up, and the small man watched one of the screens as Honey was led into the dark room.

The Russian spoke. "So how does this verk again?"

The small man sighed. For the leading producer of pornography in the world, the Russian wasn't very quick on the uptake. "I'll start from the top:”

"You know how animals communicate in different ways, some by smell, some by body language, some even by taste and feel? In a certain species of monkey, a male communicates his aroused state to the female by pheromones, causing her to get excited, which is quite common in animals. What's interesting about this specific species, though, is that their pheromone also works on humans, after a bit of molecular reconfiguring, but so far only humans of a specific blood type. This girl has this specific blood type.

"What we'll do is put her in an enclosed environment, and then pump large amounts of this pheromone into the air. After a while, she'll become sexually excited, and won't be able to hold herself back from actions she would otherwise never consider."

The Russian nodded. "And why no fucking?"

"Look, we'd like to, but we're taking a risk as it is. If evidence was found of anal or vaginal sex, we'd be in serious trouble, and it's a lot easier to prove. It certainly works with fucking as well, as you'll probably notice. She'll get so excited she won't be able to hold herself back from doing anything sexual."

The Russian grinned. "I cannot vait."

The small man turned back to the screen, his eyes on the stunning brunette. "Neither can I."


"Wait", Honey said. "Why do you want me to get in there?" She looked at the weird glass dome in trepidation. It was recessed about three feet into the ground, and spotted with what looked like air holes.

"It's the theme of the music video," the blonde replied, starting to get annoyed at this girl despite the attraction she felt towards her. "Being trapped in a place you can't get out of. Like a cage."


The woman pressed a button on the floor, and the dome lifted, Honey ducking under the lip. It closed again, but didn't really make her feel claustrophobic... there was still quite a bit of space above her, although it was only about four feet in diameter, and she was almost able to touch opposite sides at once.

The woman assured her that it'd be starting in a few minutes, and walked off, leaving Honey in the dome, half-naked and shivering, her arms wrapped around her breasts. It was exciting to be on a shoot again, though, and she felt a thrill of excitement go through her.

The thrill didn't seem to want to stop. It ran down her spine, and then back up to her breasts, and then down to her... No, she thought, and moved her hand away from where it had subconsciously wandered.


The Russian watched her snatch her hand away from her crotch and grinned. "Vhat, it's started already?"

The small man looked at the screen in confusion. "No, not yet. She's doing that by herself." He grinned, and turned to the blonde. "Are the cameras in position?"

"Yes, sir."

"The lights? The men?"

She smiled. "We're ready to roll."

The man pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose, and pressed a button on a remote control he'd had hidden in his pocket. "Here we go..."


What's that noise? Honey looked around the floor of the dome, uneasy again. She knelt down, looking toward the source of the faint hissing noise and made out a small nozzle, with a heavy yet almost fully transparent greenish gas coming from it. She bent her face down next to the nozzle and took a deep whiff of the gas, trying to work out what it was. It had the odour of sweat, but not disgusting sweat... more like, strong sweat. Sweat from exertion. Sweat from action, and...

No, she thought to herself, as the lights came on.

"Okay, we're almost ready," said the small man through a megaphone. "Bring the guys out. Honey, be ready to dance."

From all corners of the room, tall men, both black and white, came walking out, just wearing jeans. They lined up in rows around Honey's dome, and the music started.

It was a deep, guttural beat, a base that seemed to resound through her entire body. And she began to move. It was electric.

Every now and then the director would call cut, and start it from the start again, but it was pretty much non-stop hip-hop dancing. Soon she was dripping with her own sweat, but not only that... her pussy had become unbearably wet, and she could feel the trickle of the juices running down her leg as she moved.

The men weren't helping any; each of them had bodies that seemed to be chiseled out of granite, and she couldn't help openly staring at the front of their pants, especially since her head was around the same height as their penises... it was painfully obvious that some of them were very erect, but not only that, very big too.

Her movements became more and more frantic as she used them to rub her thighs together, trying to get relief to her burning twat. It just further enflamed it, and finally, she couldn't help herself... and stuck both hands under her skirt, rubbing frantically.

She began to moan wildly, so loudly the men were looking down at her and grinning, some of them sticking their hands down their own pants... and suddenly, the director gave an order, and the men took of their pants, right as Honey came for the first time, screaming wildly. She was dripping sweat, as went forward, looking at the men, begging them to give her a cock.

They stood in a circle around the dome, but didn't stick their cocks into the holes yet... they were just out of reach, but so erect, and some of them were stroking them as they looked at her... it was more than she could bear.

"Please, give them to me. Come on, please, I need them. She tried to stick her hand through one of the holes but she couldn't get her thumb through. "Please, give me your cocks, I need them so bad... I need your come." It was torture.

Finally, the director gave the order, and they moved in.

She was in heaven... she grabbed the closest penis and threw her mouth at it, furiously jacking the man off, licking his balls, begging him for his semen, the other hand at work under her skirt. After a minute he moaned, and his come splashed the back of her throat... the men were shouting at her to grab their cocks, so she took one in each hand, and used her mouth on a third, and it wasn't soon before all three came at once, the ones she jacked off came over her body, the come splashing her face, her shoulders, her toned midriff, her plastic-covered breasts... she lost count of the times she came as she jerked off and sucked cock after cock after cock, the come washing down her, collecting in her hair, between her breasts, sliding down the crack of her ass.

She slurped as she sucked the come off so many cocks that she could feel her belly filling with the cum of innumerable men, the semen splashing her from all sides as men stuck their cocks through the holes as they came from jacking themselves off at the sight of her, covered in come mixed with her own sweat as she furiously rubbed her pussy.

She finally collapsed, exhausted, in the pool of come that had collected around her on the floor, and that's what the blonde pulled her out of after she'd lifted the dome.

"Leave this one in my care," she said to the small man, and he obliged, giving them privacy.

The blonde woman kissed Honey's cum-covered lips, licking the goop off her cheeks, uncovering the flawless bronze skin below. She sucked the come out of the crevasse between Honey's breasts before removing her top, and licked all the come from her breasts.

She moved down to her midriff, scooping puddles of semen off with her hand and slurping them up, before moving to her pussy and cleaning that with her tongue, giving Honey another orgasm that she hardly noticed in her dazed semi-consciousness.

She cleaned her off thoroughly, lovingly dressed her back in the clothes she'd come in on, and drove her to her home, leaving her in her bed, with a sensual kiss on the lips, and a check for thirty thousand dollars on her bedside table.


"Vill she remember it?" the Russian asked.

The small man nodded. "Possibly, but only on her terms. Her mind will protect itself against anything that it can't handle, and she will most likely only remember the pleasure she experienced, in any case."

He pulled out the funding contract, and offered it to the burly Russian, who smiled.

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