I wrote a story and I'm looking for actors for the casting.
I reviewed Jimmy's application. He's a talented story actor in his thirties. He's played supporting roles in a few stories before. One of the thugs who raped the bar slut, the groom's best man in the wedding night gang bang, and so on.
I ask him, “Jimmy, would you play the role of Thomas, a fifty-year-old daddy, in this story?” and he says,
“Sure, I can.. I've been waiting for a leading role for a long time, dear writer, thank you.” The story production team makes him look old with makeup.
I'm reading applications for a female actor. I need a high school girl named Tiffany.
Laila's CV’s impressive. I invite her to an interview before doing a screen test. My production team and I are at a long desk, Laila sits on the stool opposite us. It's hard to guess her age.
“Hi Laila, you've played a role in thousands of stories so far, and I loved your performance in the Public Free Cum Bucket At The Public Beach. However, we are thinking of a teenage girl for this story. What is your reason for applying for this taboo story?”
Laila smiles slyly. "I'm one of the most experienced players in the story industry. I'm thousands of years old. I've played roles in ancient Sumerian and Hittite reliefs. Sometimes I played a goddess, sometimes a slave. You can see me in Egyptian papyri, or in Byzantine mosaics. Fictional characters like me have existed since humans began drawing pictures in caves. And, I am also a fictional character. So you can design me however you want; appearing as a teenager in a story doesn't change the fact that I'm actually ten thousand years old."
I could see she was very sexy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, shifting from blue to brown. Her hair was a different color every time I looked at her. One second she was standing there in sexy black lingerie, the next she was transformed into a red party dress.
She smiled. “Even now, while I'm having this interview with you, people all over the world are writing stories, and I'm becoming the women in their minds.”
I still had my doubts. Should I cast this very old woman in a youth story? Or should I give a chance to one of those young sluts eager to break into the industry?
“I understand your hesitation,” said Laila. Her hair turned blonde and swayed to either side in two thin braids. She smiled shyly as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her white shirt. She tugged at her red tartan mini skirt, trying to cover her slender legs. “I might be a shy high school girl,” she whispered, blinking her green eyes. “I can become Tiffany...” she said, biting her lower lip lightly. “I'm daddy’s girl. . .”
I think I had found the actress I was looking for. While my production team was preparing her for the screen tests, I could meet with the producer.
The producer was waiting for me in his office on the top floor of the XNXX building, at a large conference table with his lawyers.
When I summarized my story for him, and he said, “You know the rules have changed. We can't write whatever we want anymore. The Inquisition is monitoring every word that gets published. If we publish this story...”
I didn't wait for him to finish.
“These stories were written even in the Middle Ages. Haven't you read the Arabian Nights? Do you think the wolf who raped Little Red Riding Hood could be written about now? Or Snow White and her seven fuckers?”
The producer shook his head in despair. “I understand you, dear writer. Art requires freedom; we cannot be free by imprisoning our dreams behind high walls... but...”
“But what? Wasn't sexstories site supposed to be a castle of free thought? Weren't writers supposed to be able to share their ideas freely? What changed, tell me?”
“The rules...” he said, bowing his head...
I slammed the door on my way out of the producer's office. I wanted to swear profusely, but my vocabulary wasn't that extensive. All I could manage was “fuck!..”
When I returned to the set, Laila was having her Tiffany makeup done.
When I looked at the monitor, I saw her like a teenage girl waiting for her dad in front of the school. My CGI team was really good at this. After playing video games all day, these guys would create amazing effects for my stories.
I thought readers would love this girl. But how could I tell them the scenario had changed?
Jimmy, I didn't recognize him as he approached me.
“How does my Thomas character look?” he said, smiling cheerfully. With his fake beard and graying hair, he looked like a very charismatic daddy.
“You look great, Jimmy,” I said, “I hope your performance is as good as your makeup.”
“Ah, speaking of performance...” he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “my thing... I mean... my dick, can you write it bigger?..” with a shy smile.
Instead of answering him, I smiled. I didn't understand the reason for men's obsession with big dicks.
As the set workers rushed around, and the decor and costumes were being prepared, I designed the speech I would give in my mind.
“Guys, gather around. I have something I need to tell you...” Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at me.
“First of all, thank you for all your hard work. You did a great job bringing the writer's imagination to life...” I clenched my fists as I chose my words. “But the rules have changed... and... I... I don't know how to say this... but I may not be able to write anymore...”
They was shocked. What? Are you giving up on the story? But how? How can a writer stop writing?
“From now on, we are banned from writing certain topics. This means we won’t be able to work with some of you…”
They didn't understand anything, looked at each other and murmured, “What does that mean?”
“This means... we have to say goodbye to some characters... like Rex... I'm sorry, Rex..."
Rex, who was quietly eating his food in the far corner of the studio, looked at me when he heard his name and wagged his tail.
“And Jimmy... I guess we won't call you daddy anymore... but don't worry, I can change your role to librarian...”
“I'm sorry to hear that, dear writer... I know you find daddy’s girl stories entertaining...”
“Yes, it was...” I said sadly. "And you, Laila... I really liked your teenage makeup, but now we have to change it. You're a thirty-something bank teller... you have a boring life, you're unhappy Tiffany doing the same job behind the counter every day. You'll meet Thomas, a librarian with a boring job just like yours, go on a boring first date, get married, and play the role of a woman with a boring sex life..."
“Bullshit!” Laila exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I've been a fictional character wandering through people's dreams for thousands of years. I've never been banned until now. What has changed?” Her teenage school uniform transformed into a navy suit, and her blonde braided hair turned into a short black cut as she stomped her foot in anger.
“I'm so sorry, Laila... Believe me, I'm unhappy too. Because I can't write taboo stories...”
"I don't understand. Who? Who is banning us? Why are they banning it? Why is it forbidden to think, to dream, to be happy with fictional characters?
“I guess... those who rule us believe that there should be barriers around our imaginary worlds... maybe they want to protect the new generation from our dark fantasies...”
“Then why aren't superheroes forbidden? Aren't they also the product of extreme imagination? Why aren't horrific murders in movies forbidden? War movies. Fighting movies. Horror movies. Aren’t they dark fiction? Why are sex fantasies banned?”
“I don't understand it either, Laila... I think we're approaching the end of civilization as we know it. Soon we'll have nothing left...”
“Can't we resist the bans? This isn't the first time this has happened to me...” said Laila, her eyes filling with tears. "I was burned in the library of Persepolis along with three hundred thousand parchments. They slaughtered me in Alexandria along with half a million cursive. Fundamentalists destroyed my rock figures with dynamite. And they still want to destroy me. Why? Why do people want me to disappear? What have I done besides excite and entertain them a little?"
She collapsed onto the floor and began to cry.
“Please... don't let me die. Keep writing about me. Please... I don't want to vanish from people's minds...”
...
