<<REPOST>> The Reluctant Film Star by Dawson (M+/f, nc) 3/3

[dawson...@hotmail.com]

NOTICE: James Dawson's stories are coming to video. We are still seeking
investors interesting in developing high-quality product that will have
a high return. Please email: Dawson...@Hotmail.com for more
information.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
WARNING: This story contains strong themes of coercion and forced sexual
behavior. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the
writer does not in any way suggest or condone similar behavior.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The Reluctant Film Star
by James Dawson
=========================================================
Part Three - The Examination (Part 1)

Natasha was not at all happy about having to endure a physical
examination. Doctors and hospitals gave her the creeps. Though she hadn't
seen a doctor for some time, she had been feeling fine and hadn't needed
to. She certainly hadn't wanted to. Jack had explained, however, that it
had to be done for the producers, and that for insurance purposes it would
have to be thorough. He'd also asked her to look nice for it, as it was
important to begin concentrating on image and to leave a good impression.
He had also reminded her of the producer's worry about being uncooperative
and he told her there would be a number of tests they would need to do,
and to be sure to do exactly as the doctor instructed her. After this, it
would be off to the exciting location.
Jack had stressed that they wanted to promote her as a fresh face,
and he wanted her to dress to suit that image. He'd asked her to start
wearing clothes that emphasized youth. At one point, she'd mistakenly
mentioned that she still had her school girl's uniform, and had been
dismayed when, though she told him she couldn't still fit into it, he'd
insisted that she wear it no matter how tight it was. Image was
everything, he'd said.
She found her old blazer and tie and Jack had told her to wear the
white high heels. Thought the skirt was tight, and now decidedly on the
short side, it was the blouse that was the real problem. Even in school,
she'd already had to get a special one to accomodate her big breasts, but
in the years since she last worn it, she grown bigger still. She could
hardly get it to fit, and the result was that gaps were pulled taught
between the buttons. It looked ridiculous and she'd prayed her seedy
landlord wouldn't see her as she left her little room. He was gross, and
bad enough when she was dressed normally.
The trip to the doctor's had been very embarrassing. Men had
stared at her in this outfit, and she'd seen them talking about her. An
old man had sat opposite her on the bus had stared at her in a way that
make her feel sick. He'd even licked his lips, though she didn't know if
it was on purpose. After he had gotten off, two teenaged boys, one about
her own age and one a little older, had gotten on and looked at her the
same way. She had stared down at the floor and tried to ignore them, but
they had started talking to her. They had tried to talk her into going
somewhere with them, but she had told them she was going to a doctor's
appointment. One of the boys had smiled, and asked if they could come too,
making her turn bright red with embarrassment. They'd come over and sat on
either side of her and asked her questions. Why was she going to the
doctor? What was he going to look at? Was she going to a hospital? She'd
felt them staring at her chest. The boys even offered to examine her
themselves in the back of the bus, and she'd been really glad that there
had been so many people on it or she'd been afraid they might have made
her go back there with them.
She found the address that Jack had given her, and saw that it was
another drab, grey, two storey building like so many in Moscow. She was
relieved at least to find that it wasn't a hospital. As she got closer,
however, she almost started to wish it was. The building looked deserted,
with weeds growing unchecked along the front and there was a long crack in
the glass in one of the front doors. As she looked at the unkept facade,
she had to double check the address to be sure it was the right place. It
was. She pushed the front door open and entered the building.
The front reception area looked almost as desolate as the front.
There was a worn sign listing several doctor's names near the
receptionist's desk, but it looked old, like the people whose names were
on it were long gone. On a table were several magazines from 1986. It gave
her the chills. As she walked farther in, she noticed that there was no
receptionist, only a bell with a note, hand-written in English, "ring for
service." She tried to quell her fluttering stomach, and took a deep
breath and rang the bell.
A few moments past before she heard footsteps. She felt her
stomach flinch as the door facing her opened and an older man wearing a
white coat walked in. He looked to be in his late fifties and was not that
much taller than she was, though he was considerably wider. Beneath his
thinning white hair were two blue eyes which sized her up.
"Hello, Natasha, I'm Dr. Jackson," he said in a clear American
accent. He offered his hand.
"Hello," she replied nervously. She reached out and shook his
hand. It was sweaty and she felt queasy at the thought that that hand
would be touching her.
"I'm glad to see you're on time," he said, "we've got a lot to do
today. You know, these producers want to cover everything. I hope we can
finish in one day." He smiled at her. "Or we might have to have you come
back."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Follow me," he said turning towards the door. Natasha followed
him as he went down a desolate looking hallway. It looked deserted, like
it hadn't been used for years. She followed him into a room on the right
and entered a big office, with a large desk with a client chair in front
of it. To the left was a big, plush couch, on which she suddenly noticed
two other men. A bank of windows above them with sun streaming through the
slats in the blinds made it a bit hard to see them. They were also older
and were dressed in suits and did not look like doctors.
The room looked like a doctor's office from an old movie. There
were several anatomy posters and charts on the wall which were yellowed
from age and a full human skeleton hung from a metal stand. There were
several other stands behind the desk which held up old fashioned, odd
shaped instruments. In the midst of the multitude of devices, though, were
two video cameras.
Jackson walked around the desk and sat down and offered Natasha
the seat opposite. She sat down, aware of the silent men sitting to her
left, and clasped her hands nervously in her lap. She wondered if they
were waiting too.
"Thailand, eh?" said Jackson, opening a file, without introducing
the other two men. "Every had any major illnesses?" She shook her head
no. He looked up at her, his eyes traveled down to her full breasts and
the gaps pulled between the buttons on her blouse. "You certainly look
healthy," he said with a smile. He went down the list of major diseases
and asked her a few other questions about her medical history.
"How old were you when you reached puberty?" he asked, suddenly
looking back up at her.
Taken aback, Natasha thought for a second. The question confused
her. She tried to remember.
"I mean," said Jackson leaning forward as though it were a
difficult question, "how old were you when hair started to grow around
your crotch?"
Her face burned with embarrassment at this crude and explicit
question. The thought of the two older men sitting to her left made her
squirm.
"Ah...ah...around twelve or thirteen...I think..." she finally
answered. She suddenly felt ridiculous in the outfit she was wearing.
"I see," he said, writing in the open file.
"Are you sexually active?" he asked.
Her face burned bright red. She stole a glance at the two men
sitting to the side of her, but could only see dim shadows. "Y...yes..."
she stammered. She watched him write something into the file. She saw
movement on the couch and noticed suddenly that one of the men on the
couch had a camera with a large flash attachment sitting next to him. Her
hand went up to her mouth in trepidation. Jackson, noticed her stare.
"We have to have photographic documentation," he said, "for this
kind of thing, the producers and the insurance people insist on it."
She gasped, and her big blue eyes looked up at him in alarm.
"It's standard," he said. He looked back down at the file. "How
long have you been sexually active?" he asked, continuing with his
questions.
Natasha sat stunned at what he'd just said. Her mind raced.
"T...two...about two years..." she said finally. She looked down
at the desk.
"Has it been vaginal sex?" he asked.
She looked up in shock at this question. "W..what?"
"Have you been engaging in any oral or anal sex?"
She almost gagged with humiliation at being asked this. She sat
dumbfounded for a moment. Her innocent young face registered her shame.
"Let me put it more clearly," said Jackson, leaning forward in his
chair as though she were stupid. "Do you take men's penises in your mouth?
Or let them use your bottom?"
Natasha's hand flew up to her mouth in shock. "NOOooooo," she
replied. Her eyes briefly, nervously, scanned the two other men. She felt
sick.
"Never?" asked Jackson. "Never let a man use your ass?" She
flinched visibly at the word "ass."
"NOOOOO." She was horrified.
He looked at her skeptically, "And you've never put a man's penis
in your mouth?"
She squirmed in her seat.
"Ah...ah...a couple of times..." she finally managed to say.
"A couple? You mean two times?"
Her face became so red that it spread to her delicate ears.
"M...more..."
"I see," said Jackson. "Was it the same penis each time? Or
several different ones?"
She choked. She felt nauseous with shame.
"D...d...different...some...sometimes..."
He looked at her blankly for a moment and then began to write in
the file. She sat in humiliated silence, feeling the eyes of the other two
men on her. She was sickened to imagine what they were thinking.
After another few moments, Jackson asked a few more questions,
about her diet and exercise. He then opened one of his desk drawers and
pulled something out.
"This is your examination outfit," he said. He held up a tiny pair
of white cotton athletic style shorts so that everyone in the room could
see them. He then held up an equally small light pink top, like half a
tank top. He set them on the edge of his desk and sat back in his chair.
Natasha just stared at the two skimpy clothing items. She could
feel the riveting eyes of the men.
The room went quiet, and became thick with tension.
"But since we need documentation," said Jackson, "you look so nice
in that outfit let's get a few pictures of you before you change. Why
don't you stand up."
Natasha looked to her left and saw one of the men pick up the
camera. He began making adjustments to it. Her nerves jumped as she him
stand up.
Slowly she got to her feet and stood in front of the chair she was
sitting in. She folded her hands together in front of her. Her mind
swirled with fear and shame as she tried to take all of this in. She
wondered where this all was going, what was going to happen.
"Okay," said the man with the camera, also with an American
accent. "Now tilt your head to one side and give me a smile."
She looked at him blankly for a moment and then managed a weak
smile.
FLASH!
Green dots danced before her eyes as she saw the man move to her
left. "Okay, put your hand up on your hip and turn to face me."
FLASH!
He posed her again and took a few more pictures. He stopped and
looked at her for a moment. Her skin crawled as he looked her up and down.
"Let's have your blazer off," he said.
Natasha felt a lump in her throat as she felt them all staring.
She was powerless. She had to cooperate. She slowly pulled her
blazer open and let it slide down her shoulders. She turned and set it on
the chair.
The old man took a few more pictures. He had her turn around and
look back at him over her shoulder. He then had her turn back to face him.
"Now put your hands behind your back," he said.
She looked perplexed for a moment and then slowly pulled her hands
back.
"Stand up straight...shoulders back," he said.
She pulled herself up straight, feeling her blouse strain as her
chest stuck out. He took a few more shots and then looked over to Jackson,
who nodded at him. He lowered the camera.
"Alright," said Jackson, looking up at her with his hands folded
on his desk, "why don't you go ahead and put the outfit on." He leaned
forward and took the shorts and top and handed them up to her.
"Just the outfit and your shoes." He looked her in the eye. "Take
everything else off."
Natasha closed her eyes for a moment. She fought back the tears as
she felt her heart pounding..
"Wh...where..." she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was a moment of tense silence.
"Go ahead and do it right here," said Jackson, his voice suddenly
thick. "No need to be shy."
She turned and looked at the man with the camera. His face was red
and he was staring wolfishly.
"Pl...please...I..." she stuttered.
Suddenly the telephone on the desk rang, jarring them all. Jackson
picked it up and began speaking into it. Natasha stood in front of his
desk nervously holding the skimpy examination outfit in front of her. Her
hands gripped it anxiously. She could feel the heat from the stares of the
other older two men. She looked to the floor unable to hear or understand
Jackson's voice in her distress. Her mind became a swirl. Finally, after
several agonizing moments, she heard him hang up the phone. She looked up
at him, her big blue eyes brimming with tears.
"Pl...please...can I change somewhere..."
He looked back at her, causing her to look down at the desk in
front of her. His eyes almost burned her.
"Just go ahead right here, we've got a lot to do." he said,
sounding slightly irritated.
She fought back sudden tears.
"I hope we're not going to have any trouble with you," said
Jackson.
The words hit the teenager like a slap.
"Nooo..." she said, her big blue eyes popping open, sending two
tears down either cheek. She reached a finger up and wiped her cheek.
"...no...I won't be any trouble."
"That's good," replied Jackson, sounding almost angry, "because
I've had it with prima donna actresses. I just toss 粗m out."
Natasha's eyes went wide with fear. She desperately didn't want to
get thrown out. She swallowed hard and wiped her cheeks again with the
back of her hand. She sniffled.
"I...I'm...sorry..." she said quietly.
He just stared at her. His eyes traveled up and down her body.
"Okay," he said. "Now go ahead and take your things off."
The room went silent and thick with tension.
She took a deep breath. She set the outfit back on the desk. Her
fingers slowly went up to the knot in her school tie. She began to loosen
it.
"That's more like it," said Jackson. He leaned back in his chair.
She pulled the tie down and then up over her head. She set it down
on the chair and turned back to face them. She raised her hands to the top
of her blouse and began to unbutton it. She opened the first button, and
then the second.
FLASH!
She looked up and saw the man with the camera. He was looking at
her through the lens. She looked over in horror to Jackson.
He looked back at her blankly. "All part of the documentation," he
said calmly.
She felt degraded. Fresh tears welled up as she fought the urge to
plead.
She looked down at her exposed heavy cleavage. She closed her eyes
again, sending new tears down her cheeks. She could hardly breath she was
so ashamed. She popped the third button loose, the fourth, and continued
down to the bottom. She pulled the two halves free from her skirt
FLASH!
She pulled them apart exposing her big bra covered breasts. She
pulled the blouse down off of her shoulders and slipped it off. She put in
on the chair.
FLASH!
"My, my," said Jackson. "You ARE a big girl."
Natasha blushed again and fought the instinct to bring her arms up
to cover herself.
FLASH!
She reached over to the desk and picked up the pink top and the
shorts. After a second's deliberation, she turned so that her back was to
the men. Still holding the outfit, she reached up behind her and grasped
her bra strap. She popped it loose and slid the bra down the front of her
arms, giving the men the exquisite sight of her slim nude back with its
gentle ripple of ribs and delicate spine disappearing into her plaid
pleated skirt. They could see the sides of her bobbing breasts.
FLASH!
She quickly pulled the little top on over her head and pulled it
down as far as it would go, which was not very, just about half way down
to her waist. It was very tight and the men could tell by the way the thin
little top hugged her back, that they were in for a treat when she turned
around.
Natasha then reached up underneath her skirt for her panties. She
pulled them down her slender legs and set them on the chair. She stepped
into the shorts and quickly pulled them up. She had to wrestle to get them
all the way up. She then reached around and undid her skirt. She slowly
pulled the zipper down and tugged the tight skirt over her hips and let it
slid down her legs.
The sight of the white shorts was breathtaking. They fit like a
second skin around a tight, yet full and round ass. The cleft between the
cheeks was clearly visible through the white cotton.
FLASH!
She stood still for a moment.
"Turn around, Natasha," said Jackson.
Slowly the stricken girl began to turn her body around. She
instinctively crossed her arms in front of the chest as she turned to face
the leering men.
"Take your hands down, Natasha," said Jackson.
She gritted her teeth and slowly lowered her arms, revealing her
astounding breasts, perfectly outlined through the thin top. Her extreme
nervousness, made her nipples protrud through the material. Her hands made
little fists at her sides.
FLASH!
The photographer began walking around her.
FLASH!
FLASH!
"Put your hands up on top of your head," he said.
Natasha closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly reached her
hands up. She felt her big breasts rise up on her chest.
FLASH!
FLASH!
He walked all around her again, taking pictures. He bent down and
got close-ups of her thrusting bottom.
Finally, he stopped.
"Okay," said Jackson, getting up from behind the desk. "Let's go
to the examination room." he walked towards a side door to the left of the
big couch. Natasha lowered her arms and followed him.
The adjoining room was painted white and the walls were bare.
There was a couch and several chairs along the wall to the right, along
with two examination tables set on wheels. One of the tables had stirrups
mounted on it. Next to them was what looked like a saw horse.
The wall to the far left was covered with a full length mirror
that ran almost from one side of the room to the other. The wall facing
them was filled with white cabinets and to the left of the cabinets,
towards the mirror, sat a large wooden "X" with leather straps on it. It
too was mounted on wheels. To the right of the cabinets, an assortment of
odd looking items were mounted on the wall above a long countertop that
held numerous containers holding assorted swabs and ointments.
Natasha's throat tightened with fear as she looked around. She
looked up and noticed video cameras mounted in each of the room's corners.
She turned bright red with embarrassment when she saw her reflection in
the mirror. The skimpy outfit hugged her body obscenely.
Jackson walked up to her. She noticed his face was bright red as
he took her by the arm. He led her up to the mirror and stopped just a few
feet short of the glass. He stared at her reflection, his eyes moving up
and down. Natasha stared down at a spot on the floor.
Jackson moved around behind her and put his hands up on her
shoulders. He slid then down her arms and began to rub them up and down
her bare upper arms in a gentle, carressing motion. The old man leaned
forward towards her ear.
"This will go much faster, and much smoother, if you cooperate
with us," he said in a hoarse whisper that made her tender flesh crawl.
She stared at the floor. Her nerves were becoming jittery and her stomach
flushed with adreniline.
"You're not going to give us any trouble are you?"
She closed her eyes. She just wanted to get it over with.
"N...n..no."
She felt his hands on her arms and wanted to be sick. A tear
popped out and rolled down her cheek.
"Good," he replied. He stared from behind her shoulder at her
reflection in the mirror. He began to push her upper arms together,
squeezing her big tits together. "You're a very lucky girl," he continued,
"take a look at yourself."
Natasha opened her eyes to the sordid picture. The old man was
staring at her body in the mirror. He was boldly staring at her breasts
which were bulging forward as he pushed her upper arms together.
"You have very big tits," he said.
Natasha closed her eyes again in shame. She was trying her best
not to cry. She opened them again.
He released her arms."Now, put your hands up on your head."
Natasha slowly raised her arms and put her hands on her head. She
couldn't bear to look at the mirror in front of her.
"Do you ever have any problems with these big tits?" he asked.
"N...no," she whispered. She was almost choking with shame.
"Look at them," he commanded.
She turned her eyes to the mirror and looked at her big breasts
sticking out in the reflection.
"Never noticed any bumps or lumps?" he asked.
She gasped as he his hands slid down to her waist and moved across
her hips. He reached around to the top of her shorts.
"P...please," she said, barely above a whisper. She hadn't even
meant to say it. It had just popped out.
Jackson ignored it and began to slide his hands underneath her
top. They moved slowly up her smooth belly.
"No..." She closed her eyes as his fingers reached the big mounds.
"I want you to keep watching," he said.
She opened her eyes again and watched as his hands slowly moved
over her breasts underneath her shirt. He began to squeeze and knead the
big mounds. She gasped again as her rolled her big nipples in his fingers.
She could hear his labored breathing in her ear.
Finally, after a few moments of groping, he pulled his hands out
and stepped back. "Okay," he said, "I want you to stay just like that for
a few moments while I get ready for the examination."
She watched in the mirror as he walked back to the counter along
the wall and began to move things around. On the other side of the room,
the photographer just stood staring at her- waiting. She closed her eyes
again to block out the scene.

Natasha hadn't noticed that the third man had not come in with
them. She didn't know that instead he had gone through another door into a
dark room filled with cigarette smoke.
"Anybody want their money back?" he asked with a smile. He turned
to look at the fourteen seated men. Three others paced nervously behind
them. "Now is your last chance." He laughed and looked up at the large
window, in front of which, standing just a few feet away, was Natasha. The
eyes of the assembled group were riveted through the one-way mirror on the
distraught young buxom girl. To either side were the large television
screens from which the group had watched the scene in the office.
"Come OOOOONNNNN" said one of them. "Let's get on with it..."

-------------------==== Posted via Deja News ====-----------------------
http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Post to Usenet