Kim had been working in the Japanese film industry long enough to know that she should be insulted to be asked to audition. Hadn't she made three films already? Hadn't she done whatever messy and embarrassing thing her directors had asked of her? And Miyori, her film student-"agent," had been very forthcoming in explaining that this was to be another bit part in a low-budget comedy -- another American stooge role. She remembered her first meeting with Miyori while they both waited for the subway. "You American, Miss?" the young Japanese girl had asked. "We need tall American to play in our movie." To be humiliated in your movie had been what she really meant, as Kim had found out in her debut scene in some fifth-rate comedy, a scene in which she'd been covered in pies, and then been asked to lose her top and expose her breasts to the cameras.

But Kim had been in no position to refuse; the basketball contract that had brought her to Japan had been canceled, and she desperately needed the money. And an odd thing had happened as she'd prepared for the short scene -- it had given her a thrill. None of the boys back in Minnesota had been all that interested in her tits -- they weren't small, but on a big athletic girl with a broad well-muscled back even large tits didn't seem like much. Here, her new friends in the movie business were so interested in her tits that they'd designed a whole scene around exposing them. And in two subsequent roles she'd exposed less but been more than willing to engage in any outrageous physical humor she'd been asked to. Kim felt herself blush pleasantly, remembering the delight at seeing how she looked on camera, even half buried in white-frosted cake. She liked the way she looked -- she wasn't the clumsy, horsy gal she'd always imagined herself to be -- and she thought she had a real flair for being funny. She was also becoming increasingly turned on by the feel of whatever mess they chose to hurl at her, the feel of sticky wet cream on her skin, between her legs. She was quite looking forward to this next film for all sorts of reasons, and she was finding herself more put out than she'd expected when the director had asked her to audition for the part.

Irritated as she was, she couldn't help but smile when she was ushered into the director's small office. Miyori, her agent and her translator, was by her side. Seated on the couch opposite the director's desk were the two midget comedians with whom she'd made her debut. They both stood when she entered, the tops of their heads maybe reaching her hip bone. If anyone in this business knew how much of a trooper she could be, it was these two. "Hi, guys," she said, before turning and bowing to the director. He returned her gesture and spoke quickly to Miyori. The Japanese girl smiled, nodded, and turned to Kim. "He aporogizes for asking you to come here," she explained quickly, "for he would very much rike to cast you in this movie, and the brothers very much want you, too. But he needs to know if you have the agirity required for the scene." Kim raised an eyebrow at Miyori and then glanced at the director. She'd been an all-conference athlete in the States, and had proven her durability in take after grueling take of a very physical scene last time. What was going on here? The director spoke again, Miyori translated. "Director san wants to know whether you can put own head between own ankles and stirr walk around."

#

Just when you thought it couldn't get much sillier. It had taken a few tries, but she'd finally managed to jackknife forward at the waist, balance herself on her hands, and walk around like that, peering backwards and upside down at the other people in the room. And now she had the part, and for her reward she was once again standing nearly naked in a roomful of men. The crew had bought her a nice terry-cloth robe, but they also knew that all she had on underneath was a Darling Rio bikini that left very little to the imagination. On Kim, it left even less than normal, because even the largest clothing sizes in Japan tended to be a bit tight. The fabric of the bottoms all but disappeared between her butt cheeks, and her breasts practically overflowed from the cups of the top.

Still, the most glamorous swimwear she'd ever even tried on in Minnesota had been made by Speedo, and as she inspected the set which would be the scene of her character's hilarious humiliation, Kim couldn't help but feel a little like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. She almost wanted to doff the robe and display herself while she waited around, but there would be ample time to show off soon enough.

The set used a whole soundstage, broken up into pieces by camera equipment, chairs, and dolly tracks, but Kim knew from Miyori's translation of the script and from her own experience that on film it would look like one continuous room. At one end was an elaborate swimming pool, surrounded by still photographic equipment like cameras mounted on tripods. On either side were two long tables of food, one covered with a table cloth and laden with assorted cakes and pastries, the other -- and this idea was Kim's own contribution -- was an American style salad bar, bowl after bowl of vegetables and sauces ending in a large bowl of lettuce. Kim dipped her finger into one of the deep bowls of sticky pink sauce and licked it off, happily aware that she was going to be dipping more than her finger into it very soon.

Miyori came running by gesturing that everyone should take their places, and Kim slipped out of the robe she'd been given. Many of the crew gave a quick cheer, which she rewarded by peeling down the back of her bikini and flashing them a quick view of her butt. "I just mooned some guys," she thought happily, "and they want to see more."

She dove into the pool and rose quickly, slicking her blonde hair back behind her head. She looked instinctively to the director and waited for his signal. When she got it, she waited for the cameras to roll a little bit, and then slowly walked up the steps of the pool. An actor playing a photographer kept clicking imaginary pictures and shouting demands in Japanese, to which Kim, though having no idea what was said, vamped a series of poses. She froze when the director clapped his hands sharply, and looked with what she hoped resembled surprise at a non existent door by the set. The two midget actors ran onto the set and ran into a tall lighting prop. It tumbled over and bumped another lighting prop, hit the camera on the tripod, which hit the actor playing the photographer, who fell into Kim, who waved her hands frantically and fell spread-eagled backward into the pool. She came up this time so that her hair hung in a wet tangled mess over her face and eyes, and as she surfaced she reached up to the bra of her bikini and pulled one cup askew, letting her full white breast and its pink nipple poke out.

Thus disheveled, she strode with all the dignity she could muster up the steps and toward the midgets. She shouted at them in English gibberish, reciting the names of old team-mates and NBA players, just to fill in dialogue that would be dubbed later. She stopped a few feet away from them, at least twice their size. In the middle of her tirade she stopped and looked puzzled. One of the midgets smiled and pointed up at her exposed tit, which she quickly replaced in its cup, but by then the midgets had fled, bumping the hapless photographer and his assistant into the pool again. Kim gave chase, easily catching up to them with her long strides. But just as she was about to catch them, she reached the table with the salad bar. The two midgets (with the aid of some prop wire), leaped up onto the table and Kim ran smack into it waist-high. She jackknifed forward at the waist and buried her face in a bowl of lumpy white cottage cheese. It was cool and not at all unpleasant, though curds of it slipped up her nose and over her ears. She missed the stickiness of the sugary substances that she knew were to come.

Bent over the table with her face buried and her ass in the air, Kim waited. She heard the twin thumps of the midgets jumping off the table, and she felt little fingers touch the waistband of her bikini bottoms, then the sudden jerk and the now familiar whoosh of heat that told her her butt was once again exposed to the cameras. They'd pulled her pants down to just below her ass, and there they stayed -- PG-13 but not R.

She straightened up and saw the little actors running past the pool to the pastry table, and ass cheeks jiggling for the whole movie-going public to see, gave chase once again. Once again she caught up with them, but once again the special effects team lifted them easily onto the table, and once again Kim hit a table full of food and flopped onto it. Her face landed in a thickly frosted white cake, her tits in two chocolate-iced cakes. The sweet icing of the cake coated her face like a sugary caress, and she allowed herself a quick taste of it with a flick of her tongue. She waited again, bare ass raised and pointing to the camera. For only an instant she felt a twinge of embarrassment, a twinge of "What if people see this back home?" She spent more time concentrating on clenching her cheeks so that nothing showed -- keep that PG -- and hoping that she looked as ridiculous as she felt. Then something sticky and squishy and ultimately delightfully intrusive smashed into her ass. It smeared over her taught skin and brought wonderful goosebumps wherever it touched. Kim stopped clenching and let the frosting and cream invade whatever nether regions of her body it could reach.

She heard the director yell "Cut!" and stood up. The remnants of the pie that the actor had smashed against her butt slid down the back of her legs to the floor, though a good deal of it remained clinging to her sagging bikini bottoms. Miyori came running up to her with a tray of prop pies. Kim nodded; she could already feel that her "facial" wasn't thorough enough for the camera. "I'll do it," she told the Japanese girl, and almost without thinking picked up a white cream pie and rubbed it hard into her face, trying to get as much of it to cling there as possible. It was only as she rubbed the sticky mess onto her face, the tin and the gunk blocking her eyes, shielding her in a sense from the rest of the world, that she allowed herself to enjoy the sheer sensual-ness of the moment. The cream stuck to her eyelids, to the inside of her nose, to her lips and to that sensitive tiny bit of skin between her lips and her nose -- these were all places that she didn't even know could feel before, and now they were sending her brain, and other parts, the most wonderful messages.

Again, she flicked her tongue out and tasted a dollop of the sugary cream -- another quick, almost illicit sensation. At almost the same moment, Miyori began applying heavy globs of chocolate cream to her breasts. For a moment, Kim's knees weakened, and she was sure that Miyori could feel her nail-like nipples poking against the girl's palm. "That's okay," she gasped, pulling the pie tin off her face and clearing to "eyeholes" in the cream with her fingers. Miyori stepped back to give her room. "That's okay, I think I've got enough."

"That's a lie, give me more," she thought to herself, knowing full well that that wish would come true. The midgets once again stood in front of the salad bar table. At the call of "action," Kim ran for them, and again they "hopped" up onto the table and began running across its top, their feet sloshing through the bowls of condiments like a Marine on a tire drill. Kim scrambled up onto the table, too, but at twice their height had some trouble balancing. She tried to make it look like she was running hard, but had to slowly and carefully place her foot into an ankle deep bowl of thick salad dressing, and another into a slippery bowlful of sliced peaches. She took another step and fell forward in as sprawling a pratfall as she could manage, landing face first in the lettuce bowl. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!! Oh, was she going to be bruised in the morning. Instead of the soft cushions of pies and cakes, she'd landed on all sorts of ceramic bowls. Who's idea was this anyway? she wondered, then remembered with a certain amount of pride that it had been hers.

She heard the cameramen close in. Wait a minute, damn it! She clawed through the lettuce in the bowl and found two carrot sticks, which she quickly stuck up her nostrils. Then she found a cherry tomato and popped it into her mouth. Crossing her eyes, she then raised her head out of the bowl to look straight into the lens and bright lights of the camera. She saw them only for an instant, because before she could blink her world disappeared beneath curtain of heavy, red, vinegar-stenched sauce. The salad dressing rolled over her face and down her chin, to be followed almost instantly by a thick, lumpy, sweet-smelling sauce.

She shook her head quickly, trying to get the carrots -- and the smells -- out of her nose. The mixtures were unpleasant and off-putting, almost nauseating, though the thick and heavy texture felt good on her scalp and hair. The midgets overturned another container, this of runny white sauce, over her head. It stung her eyes badly. Seeking some protection for them, she lowered her head into the bowl of lettuce and tried to concentrate on its cool sensations. "From now on," she vowed to herself -- "I test everything before I get covered in it!"

Kim lay on the salad bar for what seemed like a half hour, being photographed -- still as well as moving this time, she noted -- stretched out and face down with her naked butt sticking high into the air. Finally Miyori tapped her on the shoulder and she gingerly rose to a sitting position. The Japanese girl handed her a towel, which she gratefully accepted and used to wipe her eyes. Across the set, the midgets were assaulting the actor playing the photographer and another playing a security officer. She ran a hand back through her slimy hair and shook her head. "Some business I've gotten myself into," she said to Miyori. With a grin, she wiped her gooey hand across Miyori's almond-colored face and slid off the table. She padded quietly over to the edge of the pool and slipped in, letting the cool water rinse away the unpleasant smells. She pulled up her bikini bottoms, squeezed what gunk she could from her matted hair, and settled neck-deep into the shallow end, awaiting her cue. It came fairly quickly.

The midgets placed themselves on their marks with their backs to the pool, lording it over the larger but fallen actors. Kim swum quickly to a spot in the pool behind them and waited for the call to action. When she got it she stretched up to her full height, reached up with both hands, grabbed the boys by their collars and flung them back into the pool. They landed amidst much splashing but quickly surfaced and swam to the steps leading out. Kim waded across the pool after them and slowly, menacingly, climbed out of the pool and toward them. She carefully kept her back to the table laden with sweets. They staged it just as they had in rehearsal, like a cross between a Western shoot-out and a wrestling match, each stepping toward the other, legs bowed, slightly crouched. Then, as planned, both actors dropped to their knees and half-crawled, half-scrambled between Kim's. She waited until they had both fit through and then bent forward at the waist as fully as she could, looking back between her legs. She did so so quickly that she threw herself off balance and nearly fell, having to stretch out an arm and steady herself on the floor. She straightened up quickly and looked to the assistant director, who had been watching the video monitor. He gave her a "thumbs up" sign and she clenched her fist in triumph. One take! Alright!

Now the harder part. She leaned over again and reached her arms between her legs, bracing them on the back of her calves and pulling her head between her knees. She was now looking behind her and up at the table full of cakes. She could just see the tops of some of the gaudy-iced layer cakes peering over the end of the table. One of the propmen shone a light into her face, and she prepared for filming to resume. She was vaguely aware of Miyori's feet nearby, and of the two midgets -- everyone was upside down, and it was difficult to recognize them by their shoes. At the call for "action" she did her best to spread her legs, straighten her back, and thrust her chest out (up?). Someone -- she thought it was Miyori -- reached onto her back and tugged at the carefully placed knot in her bikini strap, and Kim felt her top give way and her naked breasts flopped somewhat bizarrely down into her face. She tried not to grin as she looked up at the world through her bobbing tits. This was going to look very silly.

She spied the prop man and held her breath, preparing both for the force of the impact and that odd thrill that came with getting a pie in the face. The man overturned a custard pie, and Miyori watched it fall from its tin as if in slow motion. It seemed to float down, losing its shape slightly, filling stretching out form its crust just a bit, before it exploded into her face, the sweet goopy center embracing her, wrapping itself around her face, and then the heavier crust hitting, crumbling, falling away in big chunks until her eyes cleared. Kim saw another one coming, something vaguely pink, but this one was off target. She shifted her position slightly to get as much of it as possible onto her face, only to have it rather painfully splatter off her left breast. Before she could really register the pain, however, a third missile hit her point blank in the face, completely blocking her vision. She waited a beat, then reached with her hands to clear her eyes. Her hair hung heavily below her head, and she felt it graze the floor. One of her breasts ached a little, and she could feel where other bruises would form by tomorrow. Slowly the upside down figure of the main camera came into focus, and Kim concentrated on how she was going to make this work -- walk backward she told her brain, and slowly, unsteadily, put one foot in front -- or in back -- of the other. The camera began to get closer. Splatt! It was inevitable that her butt was going to be a target, raised in the air like it was, but the first cake exploded onto her ass with such force that it almost knocked over. The sensations after the initial blow didn't help her keep her balance any better. The icing clung to her tiny bikini pants and slid gloriously over her taught cheeks down her thighs.

She braced for the next one, wishing just for a moment that she could drop her pants and leave herself and all her crevices completely vulnerable to the sticky, intrusive attack. The next was wetter, oozier, and it slid over her even more lovingly. The heat of the stagelights must have melted the prop cakes some. A thick lump of it slid off her ass and fell past her face onto the floor, exploding there like some kind of frosting bomb. Kim had a quick idea and readied herself for the next blow to her now sticky buns. She thought she saw the prop man begin his wind up out of the corner of her eye, and she tightened her leg muscles to absorb the blow. A purplish and white lump flew through the air and landed right in the center of her upturned ass. Kim waited an instant and then raised her head to look up between her legs at it, and she was rewarded with a gloppily satisfying, blinding hunk of cake and frosting in her face. "Are you arright, Miss Kim?" It was Miyori's voice. Kim wiped some of the fruity frosting from her mouth. "I'm fine, keep going." She did her best not to move -- this would be fun but horribly expensive to reshoot -- and waited until she heard the patter of little feet come next to her.

She tensed, waiting, and when she felt the midgets grab her ankles she jumped out of her awkward bent-over position and, bracing herself in a momentary handstand, somersaulted over onto her back. She lay there for a moment, taking pride in the mere fact of having accomplished the difficult stunt, and then she allowed herself to think of the climactic indignity that she was going to suffer. She stretched her long legs out to their fullest extension and spread them slightly, then arched her shoulders just a little to thrust out her bare, gunk-encrusted breasts. Her nipples had become little nails, aching for attention, pushing their way through the stickiness that tried to confine them. Flat on her back, she peered over them to watch the approach of a giant three-layer cake. While the prop crew was wheeling it toward her, bringing it to a stop just between her spread feet, a cameraman with a hand-held camera stepped into her vision for the reaction shot. Kim tried to control her panting and form her mouth into an "O." She opened her eyes as wide as she could and began to scream. She kept screaming while the cameraman backed away and the two prop men tipped the cake off its dolly.

Things seemed to move in slow motion; the cake -- nearly four feet of it -- tilted toward her and began to slide apart. The top layer slid off the main body of it, trailing tendrils of thick frosting, and flew into her face as some kind of crumbly, mushy oval. It obliterated her vision -- she'd barely gotten her eyes and mouth closed in time -- forcing her to respond only to the physical sensation of the rest of the cake hitting her body. It struck her from crotch to chest, an instant of wonderfully sticky icing and then the full weight of the crumb-laden interior. It disintegrated into a sweet oat-meal like mix of lumps and stickiness, which first pressed down on her stomach and breasts but then slid rudely down and across her exposed skin, pouring into every little crevice, molding itself to her shape. It felt wonderful! Kim caught herself breathing hard, could feel her weighted breasts slopping around in the crumbly muck as her chest heaved to and fro. Intimate parts of her begged to be touched, and she had a momentary vision of stuffing her fingers into her pants and bringing herself off in front of the whole crew. "Miss Kim," Miyori's voice said, from somewhere nearby -- Kim hadn't even bothered to clear her eyes yet -- "director san wants to add some mess. More coming." Oh, God, Kim thought, more of this and I won't need my fingers! Another heavy wave something hit her, formless, lumpy sugary something that piled onto what was already clinging to her and flowed across her body. The weight wasn't bad -- it was a lot like being buried in sand, but the sticky cake was a lot more active than sand, nipping and clinging to every hair follicle, every goosebump it could find.

Her pussy was so ready to be filled that it ached -- there was no other way to describe it. Every sensation -- the remnants of the salad dressing that weighed down her hair, the meringue and whipped cream that was plastered against her scalp and glued to her eyelashes, the slimy pie filling that nibbled at the underside of her breasts, the cake crumbs that filled her navel and scratched her nipples, all of it -- was travelling the length of her body and making its presence felt in the hungry nerves between her legs. She vaguely heard the director yell that filming was finished, but she couldn't move, didn't want to move. The prop crew hosed her down gently with warm water as she lay there, but the bath did nothing to reduce the sensation. The sticky mess had awakened every nerve ending in her body, and the streams of warm water only toyed with them some more. Kim shamelessly rolled over on her stomach, not incidentally sloshing her naked breasts around in the muck some more, and raised her butt up so that she received as much of the force of the water as she could get between her legs.

#

Once again, a day's work of being messed up resulted in only a few minutes of film time, but those minutes were so clearly the high point of the film that the midgets rewrote the script to make it about their war with the model that Kim was playing rather than with the photographer. That meant a full week's worth of work (all unfortunately demure and clean) as she add-libbed encounters with the boys in which she was clearly pissing them off. Miyori would dub the dialogue in later. That final scene then became some kind of absurd parody of "The Terminator," with Kim as the huge, blonde, bare American who would not die. She watched with pride and pleasure, especially the bits she'd added. The salad bar had been unpleasant, but its colors and textures looked great on film (and on her!). The bit with her chasing the small actors across it drew laughs even from the crew that had seen it filmed, and Kim laughed herself at the sight of her face filling the screen, eyes crossed, carrot sticks up her nose, and a tomato in her mouth.

She caught her breath at the full shot herself, face down on the table, messed up and bare-assed. This was a long, sexy woman she was looking at. And a funny one, too. She looked menacing and powerful when she came out of the pool and flung the actors away, but in another instant they'd run between her legs and there she was, bent over to the sounds of gears stripping, leaving no doubt that the character was stuck in that position. Padding around like that, her head between her legs, her tits hanging down in her face, her big round butt sticking up in the air -- Kim joined in the laughter. She laughed even louder when one of the actors ran under the table and pulled the long white tablecloth with him. Shots of the cakes and pies sliding off the table as if they were on a conveyor belt were edited perfectly into the shots of Kim getting hit in the face and ass. The sound crew had added gloriously ludicrous effects, so that when the one cake hit her in the ass and then slid down to strike her face, each impact was accompanied by the rude sound of a whoopee cushion. The editing was perfect for the final indignity, too. Cuts between the huge cake falling off the table, Kim's screaming face, her helplessly exposed body, and the huge glorious impact of the monstrous cake all fit seamlessly together. The final shot had Kim almost as breathless as she had been when she was filming it. All the audience could see was a veritable mountain of crumbs and frosting, with two long pink legs and two thin arms sticking out of it. The filming ended to thunderous applause from the cast and crew.

Kim was flushed, but this time not with embarrassment. Seeing it happen to her on film had brought about nearly all of the sensations that filming it had done, and she was eager to get home and find out just how well the electronic plaything she'd bought with her earnings could take care of the desire that her sploshing had brought out.