DWB The Sequel

'Now, would you please tell us all about the types of online pornography that you consume.'

I winced at the question, confirming my worst fears. Fuckfuckfuck.

'M...' I pleaded. 'I don't want to...'

'It's fine Will. There's no judgement here. We are simply in need of an honest answer from someone such as yourself. Honest.'

I squirmed in every way one could.

'If my family, or anyone I know is here I'll..' I began to threaten before she cut me off;'

'Will I can assure you that you have never met anyone here tonight. And they just want to know the truth. Not of you specifically B. Get over yourself. We're here to learn about men in general. You're just the representative, one that can string more than a few useful words together.'

I sat silently and fumed.

A hand gently touched my thigh.

'Come on Will. Get it out and then we can move on.'

'Urgh. Fine. I guess...you know...normal stuff. The same as most people would.'

'I know, you've told me, but I need you tell me again. The rabbit warren I believe is what you called it.'

Right. I saw now where she was leading me to. Maybe.

'OK fine. The rabbit warren. The rabbit warren is where you start looking in a fairly normal place, the usual things. Run of the mill...'

'Be specific Will.'

'Sex. Male-female sex. Intercourse.' I replied impatiently, becoming determined to get this over with.

'Oral etc, and that works, for a while. But then next time you go further...I dunno, group sex, lesbians and whatever...and that works too. And then eventually you look for and come across something new, like...'

I blushed.

'Like?' M prodded.

'Like, I dunno, Butt stuff. And then once you've discovered that the chemicals or synapses in your brain or whatever are fired by things that are dirtier than the rest, or previous...then you soon find yourself finding all sorts of things that you hadn't ever considered, or even thought of before.'

'Like what?' M prompted again, annoyingly.

'I dunno. Everything. I mean, there's so much of it isn't there....'

'I'm not sure I do know. Enlighten me Will. We're trying to gain an insight here.'

'God. Ok. Um. Facials leads to what...compilations, and then, Bukkake...'

'What's that?' M asked, even though I knew she knew very well what that was.

I smiled tightly, knowing full well I should have known I'd be asked to define it.

'It's when a bunch of men...cum...on a girl's head, face whatever.'

'Is that Japanese or something.' She asked, for the audience's benefit.

'The word is. I guess you say it's crossed over now though.' I replied.

'You said butt stuff before. What do you mean by that. Anal sex?'

'No. I mean yes, but there's more than just that. There's licking, or rimming as they call it. And pegging.'

'Pegging?'

'When the girl uses a strap-on on the guy.'

'And you liked that?' She asked quickly, knowing full well how I felt about it, having fucking done it to me! I figured I best answer lest she reveal that little (huge black nightmare of a strap-on) detail.

'It's not so much about liking. It's...about seeing something new...that's what turns...no..can turn you on. It depends on the thing.'

'Ok. And what else. 'Butt'-wise?'

'Um. ATM?' And then before she even asked;

'Arse to mouth.' I clarified.

'That's pretty dirty.' M commented. 'I mean literally. Anything else?'

'I don't know. Probably. Like I said, there's a lot out there.'

'Ok, moving on then. Anything else?'

'Yes.' I replied curtly. 'I mean of course there's more. There's always more. And you can't help but look. To be curious. To see that next thing, that's arousing just because it's new to you. That's the point.'

'Thanks B. You're right. That is exactly the point.'

One last question. Is there anything you won't watch?'

'Yes. Of course. Underage. Truly cruel. Most of the incest stuff that's so popular...'

Ah fuck. That wasn't meant to come out.

'Most?' M asked, slightly shocked, I think genuinely surprised to hear me say that.

I gritted my teeth.

'All incest.' I tried to correct, but then sighed, knowing I'd let the cat out of the familial bag.

'I don't have a sister. So if, if I were to watch one of the step-sibling ones, well, there's no one for me to think of in real-life...'

'Oh I see. Well. Thanks for sharing that little tidbit. I. Did. Not. Know. That.' She replied, and I could almost see her raised eyebrows as she said that, which elicited some kind of tittering giggles from the crowd.

'I suppose now would be an odd time to reveal that the reason I call Will here B, is that it's short for OB, which is short for Other Brother. We're not related, but we've always referred to ourselves as siblings. Yikes!'

Outright guffaws now.

'Ok ok. Now we get to the real reason I have asked you here tonight. I would like you to pretend that I am not just me, but all the other's like me. Actresses. Famous ones. That you have seen on screen and know their names and what they look like.'

'M, come on. I don't want to...' I pleaded, not at all liking where this was going.

'I am conducting Fanboy research B. And you are, like all the rest, some kind of Fanboy are you not?'

'Yes but not in the way that you..' Again, cut off.

'Well then we would just like to know what you all think. Why you think it...' She interjected breezily, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to discuss.

'Please, in your own words, explain what it is like to be a man, specifically in reference to us all, us famous women. Actors, celebrities, whatever you want to call it.'

'We do it because they, you, are familiar, like we know you, even though we don't. It's more erotic when you think you know them. It's like fantasising about an old crush, some girl you knew and fancied but never got to do anything with.'

'Uh-huh.' M said, unhelpfully.

I was determined not to be led down whatever garden path M was trying to take me down, so I began at the end.

'But not all Fanboys are the same. In fact I would say that, at least a tiny little bit, I for one get where some of you are coming from.'

'The fanboy thing, the objectification, the paparazzi, the phone hacking, the deepfakes, the porn, all of it, it's fucked. And none of you deserve it. There shouldn't be a price to pay for your success, for your talent, for your beauty. The world is lucky to have you, to get to see you perform, and that should be more than enough.'

'But?' M interjected, demanding that I mention the rest, the other part, the darker side. Sigh.

'But we don't live in that world. There are people, men mainly, out there for whom it will never be enough, and who will not only want more, but demand it, and if they don't get enough, they'll steal it, or create it, and it's sick and twisted and fucked up.'

'Some men are man enough to resist it. Others can't and feel bad about it. Others just don't care at all, it doesn't even occur to them that you would know, or care, let alone that it would hurt you. Damage you.'

'So you've looked? You've seen it all? M asked me, prompting me, cornering me.

'I have. I've...you know...to many of them. The famous. The beautiful.'

'Go on.' She said, demanding the full and unvarnished truth. Again, I sighed. Best to get it over with.

'I've looked up every available video of them all in any state of undress and played them over and over. I've visited the websites with the stolen phone photos and wanked to them too. I've watched deepfakes of them being fucked, in every hole, and I've searched for and found animations of them, or their characters getting fucked and cummed on. I've read the stories that pathetic little men have written where they all act like wanton little sluts, absurdly craving the cocks that we all imagine their famous pretty little mouths wrapping their willing lips around.'

I sighed. I was staring at the ground, unable to meet her imagined but known piercing gaze.

'I have seen it all, and even as I sit here talking to you now, I know that I will probably look at it all again, not despite having met you, but because I've met you. That's who I am, how nice I am. Even if I was the nicest there was, I'm still worse than you could ever really understand.'

'And it would be great to sit here and assure you that I'm just one of a very few. But I suspect, and you all likely do too, that I'm, just as you said....typical. The rule, not exception. There might not even be an exception. Anyway. At all.'

I let out a deep breath as I finished my confession. I expected that that was that. The end of the evening. Gone to hell in a handbasket. Hardly what I'd imagined. How little did I know.

'Thank you B.' M said to me gently. 'That can't have been easy to say.'

A deliberate pause. Tension building.

'But now it's my turn to offer a reply. Not just for me but on behalf of all my fellow actresses. This isn't just to you. But to all of you. You Fanboys.'

She said that last word like it was a swearword, like the F and C bomb all rolled into one. I knew she was building up to something, and suddenly, belatedly, it occurred to me that this was exactly what she'd wanted. My confession was the launching pad for whatever it was that she had planned. And this was it.

A moment passed with a weight of expectation and dread that I knew I would never be ready for. Here goes.

'You fuck!' Someone yelled suddenly at me. I could feel it, it was that loud.

M had stepped in front of me and was looking down at me with a level of contempt that I'd never seen or imagined in even my worst nightmares.

'You fucks.' She corrected, meaning not just me, but all of us.

'All of you. You've broken me. An innocent. A real person. A woman. A god-damned girl. You've twisted me, a real human being, into some sort of gawdy object. An object for you to jerk off to. For your own sick amusement. You've all been complicit in putting all this awfulness out into the world about, not thinking or caring about what it does to me, to us. Our mind. Our sense of self. Our ability to move through the world and feel like a real fucking person.'

'And you just get to sit there. And what? Feel better about it all just because you acknowledge how fucked up it is. As if that's somehow anywhere near enough.'

'You deserve nothing but contempt. At best. Better would be to somehow put you through what we have had to go through. But you can't of course, because you're not famous, you're not beautiful, and you're not important. You're nothing. Nothing but a sad little boy that has to take refuge in fantasy, in deluded little fantasies of us all that you will never ever get to experience.'

'The truth is that if any of you did actually get your chance with one of us that you'd fuck it up. You'd either wilt in fear or cum so quickly that nothing would even have happened other than you making a mess in your pants with your sad little inadequate shrivelled up willy.'

My whole body wilted, as did my willy. Please M, leave my willy out of it!

'Hey Will? How is that willy of yours anyway? Is it hard? It must be right? You get off on my fame don't you?' She said, each word dripping with invective.

'Even though you've known me for years. You still think of me like them don't you. Does your dick get hard whenever I'm around? Did it always? Not because of me, but because of who I am? You do don't you. You all do. I see it. I fucking know. You're all fucking slaves to celebrity. Cunt. Cunts. Aren't you?'

My dick, not knowing any better, rose to the awful challenge. God I wanted to die.

She leaned in and pulled my mask from my face. My eyes struggled to adjust to the spotlight shining down upon us. I could just make out the silhouettes of some people seated on the couches, but I couldn't make out any more than that. They were faceless forms. My judging audience. My jury, to her, my executioner.

'Look at me.' M commanded me, demanding my attention.

She stood before me and raised her beautiful leg through the split in her dress, her high-heeled foot landing on the small bit of bare seat between my legs. I squirmed at the threatening implication.

'The pressure's been building in there hasn't it? It, you, can't help thinking about us all can you, thinking you've got some kind of chance here, just by virtue of proximity. As if all you ever needed to get your shot was to meet me, or any of us famous pretty things. That that would be enough and we would just tear off all our clothes and let you have your stupid sick little way with us all.'

She sighed, an exhausted sigh.

'I'm just so tired of it you know.'

Her foot rose off the seat and, gently at first, pressed into my pressed pants, the point of the heel right on target with my left testicle. Fucking oww!

I instinctively shuffled in my seat to avoid the ball-busting stiletto from its position but M pushed back harder.

'Don't you fucking dare.' She threatened, to which I duly obeyed.

It was in this moment, oddly, that I came to realise that this M was not the M of old. Actors, good ones anyway, inhabit their characters such that you'd never know if they were in fact nervous, or out of their element somehow. And M was no different. She was good at acting. But as a person, they, M included, were just as much prey to insecurities as the rest of us.

M hadn't just come into her own as an actor. She had come into her own as a person. She held herself differently somehow.

You're expecting me to say that she had finally become a Woman. No. It was more than that. The Woman standing in front of me was an Adult. With a self-assured maturity that out-stripped my nascent adulthood by more than just years, it was born of experience, experiences that I might never have the good/bad fortune to have.

The result, to get to the point, is that I wasn't just intimidated by the situation I was in. I was intimidated by the person, the adult, standing in front of me and demanding that I take responsibility for, not just my actions, but my nature.

It was fucking terrifying if I'm being honest.

My eyes could not help but look forward at her partially exposed thigh, and naturally began their wandering path upwards to see what else could be seen. If you're a male you know that only an enormous exertion of will can stop such an instinct. A challenge I was failing.

'Shut your fucking eyes.' M added, clearly realising where and what it was that my eyes were looking to see.

'There'll be no fucking crotch shots today you goddamn Pap.'

She removed her high heel from my bollocks and replaced it with the ball of her shoe, which I considered a minor reprieve until she leaned forward such that all her weight was now mashing my boys into my body, which had nowhere to go. It felt like my nuts were just balls of minced meat and she was making fucking patties.

Her leaning in meant her head was now close to mine and I could smell her fancy scent. Never had I considered that such an exquisite perfume could be so perfectly menacing.

'Not so exuberant now are they?' She whispered to me.

'How's it feel? Having someone crush you? Sickening isn't it? Well that's just a tiny fraction of how we feel, every day.'

She pushed even harder against me, bearing down on me with all her weight. I cried out a little in discomfort. I couldn't help it. With my eyes clenched shut and grimacing in pain, I could hear how pathetic it sounded.

She finally pulled back, removing her foot entirely and standing back up.

'I didn't choose this Will.' She said, I prayed returning to her soliloquy.

'Any of it. What I chose was to be an actor. Not to be objectified my whole life. To go online and see all the horrible things that people write about me. To be made into fucking 3D fucking animations of me getting ploughed in the arse. Of stories about random people fucking me. I read those before I'd even done anything, with anyone. Some of the things they described I still haven't done. I didn't ask to look this way. To be thought of in this way.'

She paused then. For very effective dramatic effect. And sighed.

'And it's affected me. Deeply.' A slight break in her voice belying the emotion of her emoting.

'I can't, be intimate...without thinking that the guy I'm with isn't thinking of me in that way. Have they seen those same videos that you've watched? Of course. Are they secretly proud for having managed to conquer the famous little girl from the HP movies? Almost definitely. Bastards. And it ruins it for me. And then, when I'm alone, I find myself looking them up, I can't stop myself, and then, getting turned on by it, despite myself. Despite despising it the whole time. But I'm fucked aren't I? I can't ignore it. I've tried. And if I embrace it then I've become what I despise. But I want to. I need to. But I have no one to tell, no one to trust, no one to take it all out on.'

'Open your eyes.' She stated bluntly. I did so and had to take a moment to re-orient myself and re-adjust to the near blinding light.

'Look at me.' She directed, standing proudly, defiantly, before me.

'This is the body of one of those women that you all lust after. Right here in front of you. In real life, not on a screen in some dark room somewhere.'

'But it's my body B. But you've taken it from me.'

I could have cried right then and there, such was the sickening effect she was having on me. God. No matter how close I was to her, no matter what we had already done together, this was still her reality. Still her prison to live in. Forever.

'This body. This body. I live in it but it's not mine.' She incanted.

'And I have to defend it. At all times. So you don't see these.' She cupped her breasts, looking down at them, her dress showing off her cleavage.

'Or this.' She cupped her crotch.

'And what would change if you actually get to see them? If I did a nude scene. Or my nude selfies were stolen. What then? A quick wank in the dark and then you're off searching for the next actress you happen to fancy seeing with their kit off?'

'Well?' She demanded, apparently wanting an actual answer. I had none.

'Oh for fuck's sake.' She snarled.

She then kicked at my feet, making me open my legs wider than the defensive position they were in.

'Well let's see it then shall we? This Fanboy cock that's supposed to make us all just cream ourselves in our little panties.' She stated, staring down at me from what felt like a great height, her a tall building to my inconsequential ant.

I, bound, could of course do nothing to either obey, or resist, instead hoping that divine fate would intervene and prevent what was happening, happening. So such luck though, quite the opposite in fact.

M sighed in pronounced impatience and stepped forward and, before I could react, reached down to my waist and grabbed my pants, boxers and all, and wrenched them from me, pulling them down to my ankles before I could stop her.

I should admit in this moment that I was not in any way hard and therefore could think of nothing other than the embarrassment of being bared to those faceless observers assembled mere metres away.

Thankfully my shirt was long enough, and my cock recoiled enough, that it was actually hidden from view.

My relief however was short-lived, as M was determined to bring my poor cowering boy out into the open for all to see, because no sooner had she registered its continuing hiding from view, than she grabbed my buttoned shirt and tore it open as well. Lacking the hands to cover myself (one would have more than sufficed), I crossed my legs in order to shield my pathetic member from view.

M looked upon me with an air of disgust. My pleading eyes did nothing to dissuade her.

She walked up to the chair and kicked out my legs, and again, somehow magically conjured another set of cuffs to lock each leg to around the chair.