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No CGI: Intermission

by tagenar (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/tagenar | https://tagenar.sofurry.com/)

{A moment to reconnect before filming.}

Charles and J walked side by side down the steps that led up to the house where their Hollywood liaison operated.

They stopped at the last step, staring into space.

After almost a minute of just standing there, they turned to one another, exchanging a million words at a glance.

Charles did not come here to register for work in Hollywood. He had intended to wait in the hotel room, see the city, and wait for T to lay eggs.

Their agent registered Charles as a utahraptor, remarking that Hollywood doesn’t usually go for dinosaurs with yellow scales. Too much paint needed to mute them for cameras, though his blue tail and thighs might mitigate that. They were to report to the studio for a casting call on Tuesday at 10 in the morning. She wished them luck.

Charles: “J?”

J: “I don’t know, [b]ut according to the state of California, you are now a registered dinosaur.”

“Yellow scales? Blue tail?”

J bumped noses with him. “Sounds cute. I wish I could see it.”

“How many people see me like that?”

“The others [p]ro[b]a[b]ly went to the studio for casting. It’s too late for us today, so let’s go [b]ack to the [m]otel. We can find out on the way.”

J strolled to the sidewalk, human at his side.

“What would happen if I took off my clothes?”

A police car drove by but did not stop. They saw one about every ten minutes around here.

Charles did not wait for J to answer. As soon as the cop car went by, he removed his shirt and his shorts. Everything but his shoes.

Several cars drove by. The drivers did not look their way.

Charles led the way down the street. Two police cars went by, one in each direction.

Nothing.

Charles was as naked as he could be. J flanked him. The lines up and down his skin where J had released his scent stood out prominently.

One turn and a few blocks later, J led them into an unmarked building. VHS tapes lined the wall, most of them plain black with math symbols on the spines.

T had been here, as well as the rest of the migration group.

“What are we doing here?” Charles said.

“New releases are in the [b]ack.”

The raptor at the front desk perked up. “If you’re looking for the new s[p]arring video, all of our co[p]ies are rented. There’s a waiting list.”

“Good,” J said. “It’s worth it. We hel[p]ed [m]ake it.”

The raptor behind the counter huffed. “Really? Oh. There’s a [p]i symbol in it.” He looked back and forth between J and Charles. He winked.

J moved in close. “Hey, tell [m]e, what color is he?”

“Color?”

“Casting agent couldn’t [p]in it down. Is she just dum[b]?”

The raptor looked Charles up and down. Charles turned all the way around. He clearly felt weird being the only human in here, not to mention naked and carrying his clothes.

“Yellow all around exce[p]t for so[m]e of the thighs and tail. Those are [b]lue.”

J smacked the countertop. Acting. “Casting agent said his [b]ackside was green. I knew she was full of it.”

A Brazisaurus came to the checkout counter. The raptor turned to find the tapes.

The 4 gave Charles a sniff and rubbed snouts with him. Charles returned the gesture. By then, the raptor had returned with the tapes. Subtly, the Brazisaurus traced one of the raised lines down Charles’s shoulder.

He winked at him.

J grabbed him by the hand and lead him into the store, huffing. “Green. We’ll have to get that changed. Directors will turn you away for the color of your scales. They’ll gri[p]e a[b]out the lighting needed and the [m]akeu[p] and all that.”

When they had moved against the back wall, J pulled Charles in.

“Did you catch that?”

“Yeah, that guy looked like a raptor with a kangaroo head.”

“He [m]ade a [p]ass at you. They can see the [m]arks on your skin. I forgot a[b]out this. [M]ost of us are [m]ore discreet.”

“About the...” He made machete-slicing gestures.

“Yeah, that! Let’s get to the [m]otel. Don’t return the gesture.”

“What’s going on?”

“You don’t want to send the wrong signals. It took everything I had to get away fro[m] this crowd. I avoid the[m] whenever I co[m]e [b]ack.”

“Why?”

J led them out of the store and into the street, setting the pace. Charles struggled to keep up.

“J? What’s wrong?”

Another police car drove by, and the cop didn’t even glance at the naked human. When they were far enough away from anyone to hear him, J resumed.

“[b]loodplay is dirty, Charles, and the [p]eo[p]le who enjoy it tend to [b]e shitty. If you’re not careful it can consu[m]e your life. Then your lover leaves you after finding out you’ve [b]een cutting hi[m] in his slee[p] and you end u[p] walking the streets [b]egging strangers to let you cut the[m]. Yeah, that was [m]e [b]efore I [m]et T. Thought I’d [m]oved on until I [m]et you. I’ve had to hold [b]ack around you, too. I don’t want to fall into it now, and I don’t want you to, either.”

Charles was speechless for the next twenty strides. Then he looked at his arms.

“It doesn’t feel dirty.”

“Not with you, Charles. We’re rivals. Without heat scent involved, it can get aggressive. [M]ales [p]ush each other to their li[m]its to [m]ake the [b]lood s[m]ell good. I don’t have to do that to you. We are interested in T, and that’s what we’re scenting. We don’t have to try to [b]ring out one another’s scents. I’[m] here to tell you, the lengths [m]ales will go to [m]ake [b]lood s[m]ell good are scary.”

“Um, why did you cut your partner in his sleep?”

J sighed, looking down at his feet as they walked. “He wasn’t in the [m]ood. I was. I got tired of waiting for hi[m]. I did it to others, too. He did _not_ like it when he figured it out. I violated the[m]. I’[m] not [p]roud of it. That’s why I’[m] glad I got out.”

Silence for a block while Charles looked himself over, obviously marveling at walking naked and nobody noticing. He then reached up and felt his neck again.

“Registered as a utahraptor,” he said, breathlessly. “I need a drink. Any bars around here?”

“None that serve alcohol. Ho[p]e you like olive oil. Ask E. He knows all the good [p]laces.”

By the time they reached the motel, both Charles and J were dragging their feet and so tired they could have dropped to the sidewalk and slept.

The door to room 18 was open a crack, and the sounds of conversation drifted outside. J bumped the door open with his snout. The smell of the raptor pack gave him comfort, and a second wind.

R was first to speak up. “There you are!”

X: “Good to see you again, Ch—”

He trailed off just as everyone noticed Charles wasn’t wearing anything but shoes.

“Did you walk around naked all day?” Comma said.

He was on the bed, sans clothing, being stroked by three muscular dinosaurs J didn’t recognize. They seemed to be exerting effort not to touch his erection. The human was feeling their bulging arms and chests, trying to give all of them equal attention.

The motel room was packed wall to wall with scales.

“No one sto[pp]ed you?” E said.

J and Charles exchanged looks.

T stalked around the bed and nosed both of them. They leaned in and nuzzled her. Charles held her snout.

T: “Are you two all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

J swallowed. “Charles doesn’t look any different to you, does he?”

T looked at him, and then back to J. “Other than he’s naked in [p]u[b]lic, no. What’s going on?”

“We have a situation.” J nodded to Charles.

The unclothed human turned his neck and pointed to his PIT tag. T curled her neck backwards. The room went silent.

*

E knows all the good places to get olive oil. This establishment has no chairs, only mats and padded bowls built into the floor for dinosaurs to lie down together. Humans generally do not come to places like this. In fact, you and Charles are the only humans in sight.

And only you draw any stares.

E tells you there’s nothing illegal about humans and dinosaurs mixing in the dinosaur district, but it’s much less common than it is in in the Midwest. The club back home is technically in the dinosaur district, but most humans who go there don’t realize it. This bar is deep within LA’s, so no human would come here if their eyes weren’t open and they didn’t have a reason to be here.

You are lying on your side in one of the padded bowls in the floor, your cup of olive oil on the raised platform in the center. R has you in his grip, chest muscles and biceps forming blinders around your head. You are naked and hard, but no one seems to mind. E told you dinosaurs don’t care much about those things, but actual sex is a no-no. There are other places to go for that. This is a high-class establishment for high-class chlorophyll-based beverages.

X and E are lying around the bowl, E lying on X, feeling up him, admiring his newly-acquired bulk. With all these raptor dicks out and smelling up the place, you wonder how it’s not rude.

Your muscular escorts had to leave, so now it’s just you and your raptor pack. You and R’s biceps, and his throbbing dick against your spine.

“R got us in,” X says. “They [b]egin shooting the ra[p]tor scenes to[m]orrow.”

“What’s my job?” you ask.

R flexes his arms and chest, squeezing your head. “You’re [m]y [p]ersonal assistant. [b]e on stand[b]y and wait on [m]e hand and foot. [M]ostly you’ll be [m]o[pp]ing up after [m]e. Gossi[p] with the other [p]ersonal assistants, too.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and meet someone who can tell me more about Sean Connery.”

X grunts. “Still trying to get that ta[b]loid scoo[p].”

“It’s a long con,” you answer, feeling R’s thigh. Your fingers come to a rest between several valleys in his quadricep. “What about you, E? What did you get?”

E raises his head from X’s thigh and reaches for his bowl of olive oil. This place doesn’t serve from cups. He laps from it, licking his lips.

“One of the [p]ack, [b]ut I also got [p]icked to [p]lay a co[mp]y. They’ll [b]e fil[m]ing us in forced [p]ers[p]ective for those shots. [b]oring green-screen work.”

X reaches over and drags his claws across E’s muzzle. “I’m interested in the [P]OV su[bp]lot.”

You recall the script for Jurassic Park 2, and while you haven’t had a chance to read it completely, with so many muscle-dinos following you around, occupying your hands and shoving your face between their pecs and thighs, you did manage to get the gist of the story. The A-plot—humans going to the island of genetically resurrected dinosaurs to capture them for a zoo—isn’t very interesting, but it has a B-plot taking place from the raptors’ point of view. How the humans appear to them. How they perceive what they are doing. It implies curiosity mixing with an impulse to protect their territory, rather than the mindless hunting and killing shown in the previous movie. The most interesting part has one raptor trying to communicate with the humans, but the humans mistake it for aggression, so they run away. R is vying for the role of that dinosaur, mostly because it involves one-on-one screentime with Jeff Goldblum. The producers seem to like the idea of the biggest, most imposing raptor sharing a moment of curiosity with one of the humans.

“I think R’s gonna get it,” X continues. “He’s a huge [p]resence on screen, so showing a [b]ig dinosaur [b]eing curious will [b]e ca[p]tivating.”

“A whole su[bp]lot showing how the dinosaurs [p]erceive the hu[m]ans,” R says. “It should have [b]een in the first [m]ovie, [b]ut they ke[p]t us as ra[mp]aging [m]onsters.”

You laugh. “Are the dinosaurs getting any sex scenes?”

“Hollywood isn’t ready for that,” R answers, tapping his claws on your boner. “We’ll take what we can get, and so far I like where this is going. It’s a ste[p] u[p] fro[m] the [p]revious [m]ovie. The writers [p]ut [m]ore thought into our role.”

“Will I get to meet any of the other actors?”

“Not likely,” X says. “Hollywood is [p]retty segregated.”

“Segregated? Haven’t heard that word since school.”

E huffs. “Only on set can we interact. You’ll [b]e on our side of the line, since you’re R’s assistant. Don’t cross unless called over.”

“Will anyone call?”

“Anything can ha[pp]en on set,” R says, pulling you closer. You can feel his heart against one ear. “Things aren’t as rigid as they were when T’s [m]other had roles, but we still have to stay in our little area. Leftover safety [m]easures fro[m] another ti[m]e.”

X huffs. “Dinosaurs never hurt anyone. More [p]eo[p]le get injured fro[m] Hollywood using [p]owdered alu[m]inu[m] [m]akeup or naked wires.”

“And child la[b]or,” E says.

X: “Child sacrifices, [m]ore like.”

R leans over you, smushing your head under his pecs. He laps from his bowl, taking a long time, knowing you like this feeling of being pinned under dinosaur muscle. Then he leans back, carrying your bowl to you. You try to lap from it like a cat (or a dinosaur), but it doesn’t work. R tips the bowl and you sip from it. Olive oil mixed with sage, rosemary, and blood orange. Earthy and bitter and fruity. E always picks the good stuff.

R puts your bowl back and adjusts so your head rests between his pecs. It’s where you want to live forever. He knows it.

R: “Starting tomorrow, Co[mm]a, you get a taste of what hell [m]aking a [m]ovie is.”

You manage to get a hand on his forearm and trace the veins. “I’ve heard.”

“Now you’ll live it, [b]ut if it hel[p]s ease the [p]ain, you can [p]ut [m]y [m]akeu[p] on. Cover every inch of [m]e.”

“I’m a good assistant. I reach into every crevice.”

“That’s why I’[m] [p]aying you so handso[m]ely.”

You nod. “Paid in slit juice and Connery gossip.”

E and X lean forward and lap from one another’s bowls. Then they lick one another’s muzzles clean. X seems a bit tipsy. E notices and nudges X to open his legs. E nuzzles his slimy boner. X closes his legs on top of E’s head and yawns.

Your back is soaked and sweaty from R’s throbbing cock. Does he ever go soft? You idly wonder how often you’ll have to help him get rid of his boners so he can do a take. You are determined to be the best assistant to a dinosaur on the set of a major motion picture.

*

T lay in a bowl, on her back, legs open. Charles lay on her belly, ear pressed against it. She had to show him where to listen. J lay beside Charles, also listening and feeling and taking in her scent.

Lots of dinosaurs noticed her. Some went their whole lives without knowing anyone allowed to have a clutch of eggs, so their bowl drew quite a few visitors sampling her scent. By now word had gotten around it was a false clutch, and she didn’t know which of these two had given it to her; the sex was just so good her body cut through the medicine and started making eggs.

“I can feel them moving,” Charles said.

T loved laying with her belly and neck exposed like this. She had never felt so contented and comfortable in her life. “All the ti[m]e.”

A few dinosaurs scented while passing by. Their bartender returned more frequently than she had any reason to.

J came up for air, and for a drink. He guzzled a virgin cocktail, which was heavy on the herbs. As he licked his lips, he eyed their server, a T-rex scenting their bowl.

“Hey, got a question. What color are C’s scales?”

She looked at Charles, then to J. “Yellow with green on the [b]ack. Why?”

J faked a laugh. “That’s eight for [b]lue, two for green. Even dinosaurs can’t agree on the difference [b]etween [b]lue and green.”

J leaned in close and rested his muzzle on T’s belly, next to Charles.

“We need to find so[m]eone who will draw you,” J whispered. “Haven’t figured out how we can ask for that discretely.”

T had been thinking about it since they left the motel room. Charles was now C, a registered Utahraptor. Other dinosaurs saw him as a yellow-scaled theropod nuzzling her. Nothing felt different on her end. They wouldn’t know until they returned to Ohio. C might very well find his life overturned when he got back, but that was for later. For now, she wanted to enjoy the scents of the males who gave her this wonderful gift. If she was right, she would lay next week.

Her mates caressed her belly while the eggs massaged her from the inside. She took in their scents. C’s scent criss-crossed between a human’s and a theropod’s. She didn’t mention it. She wanted to enjoy this moment...

...despite the agents watching them.

She opened one eye and turned to the wall. Two light-skinned human agents, both armed with pistols, stood watching. They had been assigned to her by the Office of Permissions, standard procedure for females with unlicensed clutches. She had to declare it when she entered, and while the form stated it was a false clutch, the state of California treated it as if unlicensed chicks were about to hatch.

The agents’ job was to make sure she didn’t run away to lay illegally.

She closed her eye and let the scents and touches of the two fathers lull her into a sense of comfort and peace. She could be vulnerable, sharing this moment with them, and—

She smelled blood.

C’s blood.

She opened her eyes and raised her head, looking down her belly. Sure enough, C was bleeding from his arm, and one of J’s claws had a drop hanging from it. J was taking in the scent.

J averted both of their gazes. “Sorry, sorry. My hand sli[pp]ed.”

T huffed and leaned in close. “J.”

“I’[m]—I’[m] really sorry, C.”

She lowered her voice while raising C’s head off her belly. “J, I know that wasn’t an accident. Not here.”

J trembled. “I know. I know. I just... I—”

“Not here,” T repeated, and then turned to Charles. “C, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t mind. I kinda missed it.”

“Doesn’t [m]atter. This is not the ti[m]e. We don’t want that kind of attention. Let [m]e clean that.”

J: “I can—”

She nudged his muzzle aside and licked C’s shoulder. “You don’t want to fall [b]ack into old ha[b]its, J. You’re not des[p]erate. You can wait.”

J caught his breath. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sli[pp]ing.”

The wound had sealed. T bumped noses with C, and then rubbed muzzles with J. She caught a glimpse of someone on the edge of the bowl, scenting a little too hard. She recognized his scale pattern.

T took J and C in each hand and guided them up. She held them both against her chest. They kissed, and then they nuzzled her. She promised not to let either of them fall into that. The risk was greater now for J, and C had no idea.

{If you like what I do, consider buying one of my published books. Links below. Thanks!}

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4539730.James\_L\_Steele

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7136003.Tagenar