Chapter 1

“That’s it, girl—suck it. Just keep sucking. I’m almost there. Oh yeah, that’s good. Okay, I’m ready to go.” The young man pulled his rock-hard cock out of her mouth, leaving a slimy trail dripping down her chin.

“I’m next,” another guy said as he stepped in front of her kneeling form. Before Rachel could think twice, the guy dropped the bell-shaped head of his prick between her gaping lips. She willingly closed her mouth around the semi-hard dick and started sucking, her tongue swirling over the pebbly glans as she bathed it with hot saliva. It quickly stiffened, swelling and extending deeper into her eagerly sucking mouth.

“Oh fuck,” the guy said as he turned to the row of naked men standing behind him. “This one is something special. Her mouth is like liquid velvet. You won’t believe it.”

“Here, let me try,” the blonde-haired guy right behind him said as he pulled his friend back, the first guy’s hard prick rocketing into the air, a shimmering web of saliva bridging the gap between the engorged cockhead and Rachel’s full red lips.

“I’m good to go anyways,” the first guy said. “I can’t believe how fast she got me hard.”

Rachel turned to the new semi-hard cock in front of her, the blonde-haired guy stepping right up to her as he inserted the head of his dick between her ovalled lips. She closed her mouth, pushing a big wad of spit onto the pebbly surface of his glans, her tongue swirling over the surface of the sensitive knob. She brought her hand up to his stiffening dong and started pumping it towards her sucking mouth. The guy let out a low animal-like groan as his cock rapidly stiffened, a trickle of precum sluicing onto the girl’s swirling tongue. She groaned with pleasure as the slimy cock-sap slid warmly down her throat, the masculine flavour making her eagerly suck for more. She was rewarded as another silky morsel pulsed forth into her mouth, her busy lips and tongue drawing hungrily from the seeping tip.

Rachel looked past the young man she was sucking to the line of naked guys behind him. She counted 16 more well-hung young men, all of them leisurely stroking their cocks. There was another line with just as many standing in front of Lisa who was on her knees next to her, that girl’s mouth and hands working just as hard as Rachel’s. As Rachel watched, three guys from the back of that line snuck into Rachel’s line, smiles on their faces as they watched her work, their hands toying with their waiting cocks.

“Oh fuck, she’s amazing,” the blonde-haired guy said as his swelling dick extended and got harder under Rachel’s talented efforts. Rachel smiled to herself, feeling her panties getting wetter by the second as she sucked enthusiastically. She knew she’d be here for most of the afternoon, on her knees, working. It was still just her first week of working as a fluffer, and already they’d asked her to work on a bukkake scene. She knew her lips would be puffy and swollen by the end of the day, but she was loving her new job.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“I really need to get a job,” Rachel said to herself as she used her fork to carve off a piece of chocolate cake in front of her. She knew she should be watching her weight, but she couldn’t resist. Chocolate was her kryptonite. She was 18 and had always been a little chubby. When most girls hit puberty and started to sprout up, Rachel maintained her layer of baby-fat, making her look cute and touchable all through her high school years. She had a round pretty face and large brown eyes. With her shimmering black hair that glistened like ink, and her full pouty lips, many people thought she looked like Monica Lewinsky, the woman who had once had an affair with a sitting president. Rachel was too young to know who that was, but when she did a Google search on the woman, she could definitely see the resemblance, right down to their weight problem. Although she was slightly overweight like Ms. Lewinski, the one area that was different between the two of them was their bustline—Rachel’s bra weighed in at a full 38DD.

Shovelling the cake into her mouth, she turned back to her computer and scanned the want ads posted on an employment website. She’d been in Los Angeles for a week, spending the time up until now settling into her little apartment not far from UCLA where she was a first-year student in the film program. Her mother’s sister who lived in Los Angeles had found the apartment for her, home for Rachel being Omaha, Nebraska. She’d arrived in California with the apartment sight unseen, but was happy with the cozy little one-bedroom in the three-storey walkup not far from campus. But now that she’d unpacked and gotten her schedule of courses, it was time to look for a job. She’d had that discussion with her parents when they’d agreed to help with the costs of coming to UCLA. She’d have to get a job, or her stay on the west coast was going to be a short one.

She scrolled down through the list of jobs: waitress, waitress, call center, telephone sales, taxidermist. That one made her smile. She kept looking as another piece of cake slid between her lips. Her eyes opened wide as she stopped on one listing: ‘Production Assistant’. She anxiously clicked on the link and read the complete posting:

“Production assistant required for progressive new film company. Must be willing to work afternoons and evenings. Apply with resume and photo by clicking on the link below.”

Rachel beamed with excitement. This was perfect. She checked her schedule, but knew that most of her afternoons were free, the bulk of her classes being in the morning. And being a film student, the idea of working with a film company was better than she could have hoped for.

“Oh gosh, I bet the competition is going to be unbelievable,” she said to herself. “I wonder if I even have a chance.” She quickly pulled up her resume and looked it over. It listed her previous high school waitressing jobs but stressed her involvement in the film club, and she attached a link to a short film she and two of her classmates had made.

She was just about to send in her reply but wanted to read the ad one more time. She’d forgotten that they’d asked for a photo, which she thought was a little strange. “Welcome to Hollywood, I guess,” she thought as she looked at the photos she had of herself and picked out one that showed off her pretty face, the picture cut off at the shoulders. She knew how important looks were in the film industry, and she was definitely self-conscious about her chubby body. She hoped the photograph of her pretty face would be enough—after all, they were just looking for a production assistant—not the next Hollywood starlet.

She happily hit the SEND button, and returned to the list of jobs. There was nothing else that was appealing at all. She literally crossed her fingers that she’d get a reply to the production assistant posting, but she knew that if nothing came of it, it would be a waitressing job for her. She already started dreaming, picturing herself walking down the red carpet on Oscar night, dressed in a lavish gown, a hunky escort on her arm.

“As if,” she said to herself, snapping out of her daydream. She stepped out to the local grocery store to pick up a few things. Once she’d put away the groceries she’d bought, she checked her computer. She was excited to see a reply to her response.

“Thank you for your interest in the production assistant position. Following the review of your resume and photograph, you have been scheduled for an interview tomorrow afternoon, Thursday, at 3:15pm.”

The address followed, and then the sign-off salutation from ‘Rex Smithers, Starlite Films’.

Rachel could barely contain herself. She raced to her closet and surveyed her wardrobe, trying to figure out what to wear. She wanted to look as professional as possible, and she only had one thing in her closet that was even close—a navy skirt suit. The skirt ended at mid-thigh, and she hoped whoever was doing the interviewing wouldn’t be put off by her full thighs. Besides the navy suit, she decided to go with a white blouse, hoping she would look professional and confident.

Wanting to be as prepared as possible, Rachel dig a Google search for ‘Starlite Films’. There were no hits, and then she glanced back at their original posting, noting the words ‘progressive NEW film company’. She figured that if they were new and just getting off the ground, that was likely why she hadn’t been able to find anything about them.

She awoke from a good night’s sleep excited about the interview. She attended her classes in the morning, learning more about Francois Truffaut than she ever wanted to know. She hurried home after her last class and took a shower to freshen up. She took her time doing her makeup, and then dressed. The white blouse fit tighter than she remembered, her large breasts making the taut fabric strain, but it was the nicest thing she had that would go with the navy suit. It was a sunny, warm California day, so she left her chubby legs bare, knowing that was the way most business women looked during daytime hours. She slid her feet into her only pair of high heels, a pair of classic black pumps. The shoes had quite a pointy toe, and slim 4” heels that made her legs look good. With a final glance in the mirror, she brushed a stray look of shiny black hair behind one ear and smiled at herself, knowing she looked her best.

“Go get ‘em, girl,” she said to herself as she slipped her purse over her shoulder and locked the door behind her. She’d looked up on Google maps the address she’d been given. She knew it was almost an hour away on the bus, so she left herself plenty of time. There was no way she wanted to be late for such an important interview.

The bus took longer than she expected. She checked her watch, feeling a bit frantic. When they turned onto the street that matched the address she’d been given, she was surprised to find that it mostly consisted of single-storey strip plazas, most of them housing second-rate businesses. She moved up to sit right at the front and asked the bus driver about the specific address, anxious to get there on time.

“I have an interview with Starlite films at 3:15,” she said. “Do you think we’ll make it in time?”

He smiled as he nodded at her, telling her that address was just a few stops away. “Don’t worry, Miss. I’ll make sure you’re there on time.” His foot pressed harder on the accelerator. His eyes strayed to the front of her suit where her impressive breasts were stretching the front of her jacket tight. She knew she’d gained a few pounds lately, and it seemed as if it had all been up top. As she followed the direction of his gaze, she could see the swells of her breasts against the white fabric of her shirt, easily visible beneath the tightly-fitting suit jacket. She realized she might have to go up another cup size the next time she bought a bra.

“Right in there,” the bus driver said as he pulled to the curb. She noticed where he pulled over was between the usual bus stops—he’d stopped specifically to let her off. She looked out the open door at the building he nodded towards, another single storey structure with about four or five businesses at the front. The end unit had a simple sign over the large windows at the front, simply reading ‘Starlite Films’. The windows reflected the light, and Rachel realized they were covered with a mirror-like film on the inside.

“Thank you,” she said as she smiled at the bus driver and stepped off.

“Good luck,” he replied. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

His words caught her off guard and she instinctively looked back, seeing his eyes focussed on her big tits, a smile on his face as he closed the door of the bus and started to drive away. “That’s a funny thing to say,” she thought, shrugging it off and turning back to the building. She checked her watch. She’d wanted to be early, but she was just going to make it on time.

She saw her reflection in the mirrored glass as she approached the front door, hoping her skirt wasn’t too short. It looked a little tight too, the navy fabric pulled tight across her round curvy bum and thighs. Maybe if she got this job and made some extra money, she could buy herself some new clothes as well as some proper-fitting underwear. With a bit of a sigh, she opened the door and strode in. She stopped just inside the door, seeing most of the chairs in what appeared to be the waiting room occupied by a number of young women. The women looked similar to each other, and yet quite different from her. Most seemed to be bleached blondes, their hair and makeup done up excessively. Most of them wore tight-fitting mini-dresses or tiny short skirts and tight tops. All seemed to be showing off their breasts, which came in a variety of sizes. All were wearing high heels, some with clear plastic platform soles, which she thought of as ‘stripper shoes’. When she came through the door, all the girls looked her up and down, blatantly sizing her up.

“Oh my,” Rachel said to herself, wondering if these girls were all applying for the same production assistant job that she was.

“Excuse me, are you Rachel?” She turned in the direction of the voice. Her eyes focussed on an attractive woman who appeared to be in her mid-40’s sitting behind a desk to one side of the room.

“Yes, I’m Rachel,” she said, smiling as she stepped over in front of the desk. The woman was nicely dressed, and wore fashionable glasses that gave her the look of a librarian—much more like what Rachel had been expecting from a film company than the women in the waiting room.

“That’s good,” the woman said, giving Rachel a comforting smile that eased her anxiety. “Your interview is next. Mr. Smithers should be with you momenta—.”

Both Rachel and the woman turned as the door behind the woman’s desk opened, a young blonde woman stepping through and closing the door behind her. Her face looked flushed as she nodded to the woman behind the desk and walked past Rachel, reaching up to rub her jaw as she made her way out of the building. The phone on the woman’s desk buzzed. She picked up the phone and gave Rachel a little wink.

“Yes, sir, she’s right here. I’ll show her right in.”

The woman stood up, allowing Rachel to get a good look at her. She was tall and slim, but with a shapely hourglass figure. She wore a crisp white blouse and black pencil skirt that fit snugly, emphasizing her curvy rear end and nice legs. Her brunette hair was smartly cut and hung to her shoulders, framing her pretty face attractively. The blouse couldn’t hide the full set of breasts beneath. Rachel guessed her at a D-cup, or at least a full generous C. She was an incredibly attractive older woman, and Rachel was envious, hoping she’d look that good when she got to that age.

“Right this way, Rachel,” the woman said as she opened the door the blonde woman had just come through. Rachel saw the older woman look her up and down as she stood to the side with her hand on the doorknob. It felt like the woman was undressing her with her eyes as her gaze roamed over Rachel’s buxom form. Rachel found herself feeling uncomfortable, and yet excited at the same time. She’d never had a woman look at her like that before.

“Good luck, dear,” the woman said as Rachel walked past her into the office, her voice just loud enough for Rachel to hear. “I hope you get it. I’d love to see more of you.”

Before Rachel even had a chance to think about what the woman had said, the door closed behind her and she heard a man’s voice from across the room. “Come in. Have a seat.” She looked over at a man in his mid-40’s sitting behind a desk. His mop of reddish hair was unkempt and went every which way. He wore big owlish glasses which made his soppy eyes look larger than normal. He had his hand out, gesturing to a pair of chairs across from his desk. Rachel looked to the side and stopped up short in surprise. An attractive young man sat on a black leather couch just a few feet away from the desk, clad in a big white bathrobe. Even his feet were bare. He looked over at Rachel briefly, and then turned his attention to the cell phone in his hand.

“What the hell?” Rachel thought to herself as she tentatively made her way across the room, extending her hand to the man behind the desk. He shook it quickly.

“Uh, Rachel, right?” he said, looking at his computer screen on the side of his desk.

“Yes sir,” Rachel replied, taking her place in the offered chair, sitting forward attentively. “Are you Mr. Smithers?”

“Rex. Everybody calls me Rex. Rachel, the picture you sent in was good. From the looks of that picture, and what I see in front of me today, I think you could do very well with us here at Starlite. What can you tell me about your experience as a production assistant?”

Rachel was surprised that he’d mentioned her photograph but hadn’t even mentioned anything she’d listed in her resume. She quickly glanced over to the young man on the couch, but he was busy texting on his phone—not paying any attention to them. “Well, to be honest, I have experience in the film club at my high school in Nebraska. A group of us produced a couple of short films. But I’m studying film at UCLA and my goal is to stay and work in the film industry here in California.”