Ruining a Star Ch. 01


Hello! This story is very similar to my previous works, just with no futa (so far). That means the sex in this story is ridiculous and unrealistic as are the sexual things that happen in general.


The dull hum of an air conditioner wafted through the air. The sun shone through the window, illuminating the room in natural light. A large bed sat in its center, neatly made. The pillows were both contained in hot pink covers, and they sat above a tucked in comforter bathed in the same shade of pink. The wall the bed pressed against was a more subdued shade of pink, but was pink nonetheless. A glance around the room would show a clearly apparent decor theme – a kind of young girl’s fantasy room. The only thing that looked out of place amongst the stuffed animals and novelty furniture that littered the room was a camera that directly faced the bed.

Other items stood out upon further inspection. A half-opened drawer sticking out of a crudely decorated dresser showed a much more adult side to the childlike room. Haphazardly stuffed inside of it was a myriad of different sex toys: personal vibrators, reaslitic looking dildos, and novelty-sized butt plugs littered the overfilled space. A peak under the bottom of the bed would reveal a barely-hidden machine, one that vibrated with just a flip of a switch. Pink fuzzy handcuffs were slightly hidden behind the headboard of the bed, a cheap wooden piece, with one of the clasps locked around a post. The room clearly belonged to someone other than a child.

The door flung open, the clothes hanger that hooked onto it rattling loudly. The light thud of feet on carpet trailed through the room. A figure stood before the bed before throwing themselves onto it’s soft surface. Well-manicured toes kicked in the air, the toes painted a familiar shade of pink. Feet turned into tanned legs, completely smooth all the way up. A pair of jiggly cheeks faced the ceiling; soft, white cotton panties only slightly covering their large size. Above the smackable ass was a flower tattoo, placed in an area with a less-than-flattering name. The rest of the figures back was unblemished by any markings, and was also currently a bed for a mane of dark brown hair that flowed from the person’s head.

Rolling over, the figure stretched out. Slim arms reached towards the sky, topped off by delicate hands home to their own set of pink nails. One hand held a white phone, a black cracked screen peering down at her. Her face was what could be considered naturally sexy. High cheekbones, piercing brown eyes, a small nose and plump pink lips filled out her features. A slim neck gave way to a very large chest. Her breasts were huge and well shaped. They didn’t hang as much as most breasts their size, and they filled her chest with an enticing plumpness. Topped off by small, pink nipples that were surrounded by areolas that would’ve looked much more appropriate on a pair of more delicate mammaries. In highschool she used to brag to boys that she wore a 34E cup, not that they ever had any clue what that meant. Her breasts hung towards a mostly flat stomach, a little pouch of pudge poking out due to her current mostly-sedentary lifestyle. Her most private of areas was covered by the same white panties that tried to cover her butt, but it was clear that she kept this area as well groomed as the rest of her body.

This dark haired girl clicked her phone screen on and checked the time: it was only noon. There was still more than a third of the day left before she would be able to work. She unlocked her phone with a swipe, and began to browse through the many social media sites she was a member of. Nothing interesting was happening. Nothing ever was. Ever since a certain virus plagued the country, everything was on lock down. Scrolling through her personal messages, she sighed; there was nothing for her. No offers to promote a product, no job opportunities, no messages from directors – legitimate or not. This quarantine had put her life on lockdown.

She opened up her email, which was unsurprisingly as empty as the rest of her inboxes. Her emails to different studio directors had gone unanswered, each message very clearly stating that she was readily available for any work. Only one already-read email stood out from the rest. A studio director, one she had worked for before, had sent her a polite declination. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t find any work outside of her own self-employment. Scenes were being shot – she knew because she had friends who were still working!

Her self-employment that she referred to was camming. She was no stranger to it, no one in the industry was. Every girl, from those just starting to the hardcore veterans had all done webcam shows, and many still were. That was the problem. Everyone and their mother was getting into the online sex work industry. It was becoming oversaturated. Articles had popped up everywhere, all of them stating that the camgirl industry had blown up more than ataköy escort ever in the time of lockdowns and state-imposed quarantines. There was even one article where a girl talked about how the demand was almost too-high; she couldn’t be expected to masturbate for 12 hours a day. But this experience was rare, and only the most followed camgirls seemed to have this problem.

But girls like her, who only cammed on the side and had most of their income from actual hardcore scenes, were left out in the rain. She had an account where she sold nudes and exclusive videos, but so did every other girl in the world it seemed like. That market was even more saturated, with most of its top users being girl’s who were popular on social media, or the rare random success story like the girl who made it to the 1% of users after a video of her acting like a dog went viral. And she wasn’t either of these. Her income was split between these two sources, and neither were very lucrative. The fish just weren’t biting.

Living near the porn capital of the world wasn’t cheap. Her rent was insanely high for the small apartment she lived in, much higher than she had been used to having grown up in the midwest. Money was tight even before the state shut everything down, and now that her main source of income was all but diminished it was even more of an issue. Streaming and selling nudes just wasn’t cutting it; she would have to get a regular day job at this rate. And that could be its own challenge. Not only were most normal jobs not hiring, but any that did a background check would more than likely learn of her more lurid past. Given her current line of work, she didn’t even know if she could manage to hold down something like a retail or waitressing job.

She opened up another social media app and began to mindlessly scroll through the pictures that filled her feed. It was an odd mix of friends she had made in her current profession, and people she had grown up with. One picture caught her attention in particular though. A friend of hers in the porn industry, a fellow starlet who was much more popular than she was, she’d begrudgingly admit, had posted a picture of herself in an all-too-familiar studio. The picture was from this morning, and hadn’t been tagged with any kind of throwback tag or anything of the sort. That bitch had worked today! And in the studio she had received an actual rejection email back from. Fuming, she read the caption on the picture, and noticed the same director who had emailed her was tagged as well! What the fuck!

Thoughts raced through her head. She knew this other girl was more popular than herself, although she was no slouch in the fan department herself. Why wasn’t she getting work? She had made it clear to every studio in the area that she was ready and willing! She would have even sent messages to the few other studios that primarily operated out of state if flights hadn’t been locked down so much. As the half-naked girl continued to fume in anger, the wheels in her head began to turn. A plan was forming.

She hopped off the bed and headed towards her closet. Rifling through the abundance of clothes that were both hung up carefully and carelessly scattered across the floor, she carefully picked out her outfit. She needed to look as alluring as possible for her plan to work. A red, tight shirt was quickly tossed on, the deep V of the neck showing off a nearly indecent amount of cleavage. It also cut off right above her belly button, only adding to the overtly sexual look she was going for. Form hugging, name-brand jeans accentuated her large ass and slim legs. She finished this look with a pair of open-toed sandals, just in case it was her feet that ended up being the attention grabber.

Moving to the bathroom, she had to make sure she looked extra desirable. Small diamond earrings were slotted in one by one, filling the sides of her ears. She threw a perfect-length necklace onto her neck, the silver chain well-polished and the white-gold heart resting nicely in her cleavage; she always tried to draw as much attention to her best asset as she could. The makeup she applied was light, just enough to show off her natural beauty. Adding some smokiness to her eyes and applying a deep red lipstick, she finally felt like her look was complete: seductive, but not whorish. She wanted to turn heads, but only just enough to not be mistaken for a prostitute. It was perfect.

Grabbing her keys and predictably pink purse, she waltzed out the door, her hips naturally swaying in a slightly exaggerated manner. She walked down the stairs, the apartment being annoyingly located on the second floor, and walked into the open world. Sunlight immediately hit her face, causing her to squint in annoyance and grab a pair of stylish designer sunglasses from her purse. Putting them on, she quickly walked to her car, a small little 2 door, and hopped into the driver seat. Her car was push-to-start, a feature that ataköy escort bayan was becoming more common, but still a more lavish addition. Maybe the reason she was broke didn’t just lie in her lack of work.

She turned on the radio and pop music immediately blasted through the speakers. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror, making absolutely sure she looked as good as she could. Popping a stick of gum into her mouth, she turned the car on, with a push of course, and pulled out of the parking spot. Checking the time, a little after 1, she realized that with the few scenes being filmed currently, that the director she was headed to see might be leaving soon. She pressed down on the gas and zipped out of the apartment complex.

Speeding through traffic, she zig-zagged between cars and ran stop signs. If any cops pulled her over, she’d use her natural charms to get out of a ticket – and if that didn’t work, her very specific set of skills would come in handy. Taking several back streets to skip traffic, she got closer and closer to the studio. She knew all the tricks to getting there quickly, punctuality not being one of her strong suits. After making a 30 minute drive in only 15, she finally pulled up to the parking lot of the studio. She checked herself in the mirror one last time and then reached into her purse to pull out a mask. It was pink, of course.

She stepped out of the car and ran a hand through her long brown hair, giving it a last little fluff. Surveying the outside of the building, an unassuming grey square that looked more like a warehouse than anything, she noticed a single security guard standing outside. He stood with his arms crossed, a mop of black hair slightly covering his eyes. She didn’t recognize him, but she knew these type of guys well: glorified rent-a-cops that took the job just for the small chance they might get offered to star in a scene or get a chance with one of the models. They never did. They never did, but she could manipulate that hope to her own advantage.

She sauntered off, making sure to sway her hips in an exaggerated manner. Pretending to adjust her shirt, she actually pulled it down a bit, so that the tips of her areolas were almost peeking out from her bra. As she continued to make small adjustments such as pulling her jeans down slightly so that the straps of her racy underwear could be seen, she realized something annoying: her mask was covering her face so she wouldn’t be able to give a sultry smile. She would have to really work her eyes to make up for it. Reaching the young man, she paused in front, a look of satisfaction touching her lips upon realizing that he was very clearly checking her out.

“Hello miss, how may I help you?” the guard said after a pause, finally finished ogling her.

“Oh I have a meeting with the director, Mr. Johnson. I’m sure he mentioned I was coming. My name is Lind- Bailey. Bailey Bang,” she giggled, placing a hand on her chest and giving her cleavage a light stroke, “Sorry, I still forget to use my stage name sometimes!”

“I don’t remember Mr. Johnson mentioning anyone else coming by this afternoon. He said after the filming wrapped up this morning that no one else would be coming by. It’s just him and the editors still in there, I think.”

“Oh that’s because we just set up this meeting! Like an hour ago. He probably just forgot to mention it!”

“Mmmm I don’t know Ms. Bang. I’m not supposed to let anyone else in unless I’m told so. You know, with the virus and everything.” the guard finished with a shrug and a half-apologetic look.

Bailey paused for a moment. She was gonna need to kick it up a notch. She stepped forward and leaned in towards the guard, watching as his eyes followed down to her cleavage. Placing a hand gently on his chest, she stroked it softly. It was more solid than she was expecting. Her eyes widened into a kind of puppy-dog look, and she crinkled her nose a little to complete the pleading look. She would’ve added a pouty smile if not for this damn mask.

“Oh come on… you can make one little exception for me. I know you’ve seen my videos. You must be a fan. Do me this one favor and I’ll owe you big time!” Bailey purred in his ear. She moved her hand down his body more quickly now. Her fingers toyed with the buckle of his belt before giving his groin a quick rub. He felt decent down there – maybe she would make good on her favor if he let her in. She stared into his eyes and batted her long eyelashes. Whatever it took.

“Uh, uh well…” the guard stumbled over his words, his face turning bright red. He brought his hands up, shaking a bit, “Uh ok. I guess I can let you in. Just this once.”

He swung open the door, and raised his still-shaking out in invitation. Bailey gave a sly smile from beneath her mask and leaned over, pulling her mask down ever so slightly. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek, she bounded towards the door, pulling her mask back up over escort ataköy her mouth and nose. She turned back once more and looked at him.

“Thanks cutie! If things go well, you might get that favor sooner than later!”

Bailey walked down the entrance hall, trying to pace herself. She really wanted to sprint, but she couldn’t lose her composure. Settling for a power walk, she moved down the halls, keeping an eye out for anyone who might call her out. Luckily, it seemed like the guard at the front wasn’t lying: most people were gone and the editors would be in one of the rooms reviewing the footage. She just needed to get to the director. Passing a set, she took one more turn before ending up outside the director’s office. With a last deep breath, her mask sticking to her face, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.

The office was fairly unassuming. It was windowless, but lit well by a bright ceiling fan that’s blades currently spun quickly. It was carpeted, the gray fabric slightly blackened in the heavy-traffic areas. A black leather couch sat against the left hand wall, a tongue-in-cheek present that one of the other directors had gifted him when he was given the office. Above the couch was a shelf with several awards, a testament to the man’s work and longevity in the industry. Against the back wall was his desk which held various knick knacks and a coffee cup that rested around a laptop. The rest of the office was fairly bare, only a couple rolling chairs sitting up against the opposite wall of the couch stood out. One would hardly assume that this was the office of someone who worked in the porn industry.

The director himself was the same way – unassuming. A man who was probably in his 40’s, his hair was black with some gray bits in, giving him a nice salt and pepper look. Facially, he was slightly handsome but in an understated way. Deep brown eyes with a few wrinkles from age underlining them. His nose was straight and average. Cheek bones pronounced, but not excessively so. No extra fat on his cheeks and his lips were, for lack of a better word, average. He wore a blue button-up that with the sleeves rolled up to the arms showing muscled forearms. The rest of him was covered by the desk, but she could see his black tennis shoes barely sticking out of the bottom. He was handsome, but in a dad way. You wouldn’t give him a second look unless you were hunting for a DILF.

His eyes glanced up with his head unmoving at the sudden intrusion into his office. He preferred when people knocked. He straightened himself as he watched the blonde enter the room. His brain raced as he tried to remember this girl’s name and to try and figure out why she was here – he didn’t remember having any appointments this afternoon. Finally recognizing the busty woman, his mind also flashed to the security guard outside and he put 2 and 2 together. The director could already see where this was going.

“Miss Bailey,” he started, his voice deep and smooth. He interlocked his fingers together in front of his face, “What can I do for you today?”

He gave her a knowing look as she grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it up to his desk. She sat down and crossed her legs. Bailey suddenly felt like a student in front of a principal, waiting for a scolding after being made to admit what she did wrong. She shimmied her shoulders, trying to relax. Taking a deep breath, she addressed the figure of authority in front of her.

“Well, Mr. Johnson, I know I asked you over email if you had any work for me, but I figured I might try and ask in person. I know you said there was nothing, but I know you shot a scene this morning and I was hoping maybe coming in person would help me understand why there doesn’t seem to be work for me. Especially since I’m so eager!”

Bailey finished this last sentence with a breathy sigh, hoping it came through this stupid mask. She stared at Mr. Johnson for what seemed like an eternity as he stared back motionlessly. Finally, he inhaled deeply through his nose and leaned back in his office chair. Now staring at the ceiling, he continued to sit in silence. After another minute of this, he looked back at her, his eyes taking on a tired stare.

“Please, call me Chris. Like I said, we don’t have work for you,” the words coming out slowly and deliberately, like he was talking to a child. “We have work for some performers. The ones who will make us money without a doubt. Unfortunately, that is not you. I’ve worked with you before, and you’re good at what you do, but that doesn’t always translate to popularity. I’m sorry.”

Fuming at these words, Bailey bolted out of her chair, sending it rolling backwards, and slammed her hands on the desk, causing it to shake slightly. Chris looked back at her impassively. She shook in rage for several seconds before taking a deep breath. Collecting herself, she straightened her shoulder and shook her head, causing her brown locks to momentarily cover her face. Looking at Chris once more, she walked around the desk, tracing one of her fingers along the edge of it. Coming to the edge of the desk right in front of the director, she parked her bubbly ass on the corner of it and leaned towards him. If she had to use the same strategy twice, she would.

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