No CGI (male) 6
Story by Tagenar on SoFurry
{You are now entering the underworld of the dinosaur porn industry. What, you thought the nonhuman actors of Jurassic Park could make a living doing normal movies and TV spots?}
No CGI (male) 6
by tagenar (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/tagenar | https://tagenar.sofurry.com/)
{You are now entering the underworld of the dinosaur porn industry. What, you thought the nonhuman actors of Jurassic Park could make a living doing normal movies and TV spots?}
You and R have been walking down one avenue past eight streets of row houses. Dinosaurs are out and about everywhere, many of them wearing hard hats and scraps of other kinds of clothing. R told you there are a few factories in the district. It used to be the only job the state would allow dinosaurs to have, but as outsourcing ratcheted the workforce in the 1980s, the law changed to make it easier for dinosaurs to find employment among humans. It’s still not easy, but at least it’s possible. Lots of states still don’t allow it, so if the factory closes, people call the dinosaurs lazy for being unemployed and in need state aid.
You can see them now. Warehouses and small manufacturing places. Not big polluters, thankfully, and many of them are still in operation. You pass several, and R turns to one that looks neglected.
It’s about a soccer field long, and the windows are all shut. A few broken panes have plywood covering them. The fence is open, and you notice the rusting barbed wire is facing the inside, as if to keep employees in rather than intruders out. You wince as you follow R’s muscular butt through an open emergency exit. You could walk all day just watching his leg muscles. You wonder what he looks like in a full run.
Inside is a makeshift film studio: light fixtures everywhere, an office set, a generic retail store set complete with shelving and price labels. Other sets are built around the support beams, and some sections of the walls have been painted with automobiles parked into the distance.
The rest of the warehouse is a blank slate. Bare floors, rusted spots where machinery once stood. Lots of plywood canvas painted with various designs and colors are stacked vertically against the walls. Some of the distant walls have been painted neutral colors.
You observe a few dinosaurs carrying equipment. Humans are helping as well. Three women in particular catch your eye, as they seem to have not bothered changing clothes coming from a night club.
A three-fingered white hand drops on your shoulder, and a white muzzle rubs your cheek from behind.
“Hi, X,” you say.
X slides past you and bumps noses with R.
“Glad you could [m]ake it to our studio,” X says, turning to face you.
“What was this place?”
“Can’t re[m]e[mb]er the na[m]e, but it [m]ade air conditioners. Once CFCs were in question, they [p]anicked. [P]arent co[mp]any wrote off the whole o[p]eration on their taxes. Land value is so low no[b]ody [m]oved in. We’ve [b]een [m]aking [p]orn here for six years and we haven’t [b]een kicked out.”
“What’s all that?” you say, pointing to the boards stacked on the other end of the factory. You just now realize there is no echo, and that’s when you see the padding on the walls and ceiling.
“We save that end of the factory for running shots when [p]u[b]lic [p]arks are too crowded. Those things cover the walls. We have enough to [m]ake a line from end to end.”
“Dinosaurs love their chase scenes,” R says, growling. You hear a drop of lube hit the concrete.
X leads you and R. The crew is setting up a scene they plan to shoot tomorrow. Most of the performers are at their day-jobs, so it’s a planning day.
One T-rex is helping assemble the office set. He looks familiar, and then it hits you. He was in the ??* video you and R watched a few days ago. He is indeed very much alive. R approaches him and rubs muzzles. He turns and leads him to you. You have never seen a T-rex up close, and the proportions are strange compared to a raptor, even against R. He’s only about two feet taller than R, and though bulkier than a normal-sized raptor like X, R still has him beat in thickness. The arms seem much more in proportion than the fossil skeletons you’ve seen, not to mention the one in the movie.
“This is ___,” R says. “His eyes are o[p]en, and he thought your death scene was great, O.”
The taller dinosaur snorts, probably their way of laughing. “Not even [m]y [b]est. Hope you stick around the district. We can always use [m]ore resident [p]rey.”
You smile.
“He’s thinking a[b]out it,” R says, patting O on the back.
O returns to moving the desk away from the wall and into the office set. X walks both of you to the other end, which has video editing equipment. All of it done on tape, as they don’t have the equipment for film. Splicing audio is difficult enough with what they do have. They were lucky to get the tape editing machines from a liquidation sale.
You ask how they get such steady shots, as you can’t see any special camera equipment.
X bobs from the neck. “Every dinosaur is a natural Steadica[m].”
“[P]isses me off,” R says. “If Hollywood would let us hold the ca[m]era, we could’ve given the[m] [p]erfectly sta[b]le shots since the twenties, but no. They had to [w]ait until so[m]eone invented a [m]achine to do what we do so hu[m]ans could keep holding the ca[m]eras. [b]astards.”
X bumps noses with him and then eyes you. “We never needed dollies, either. Hu[m]ans would rather [b]uild railroads for the ca[m]era than let us run with one. Dinosaur [p]orn has had sta[b]le tracking shots since the fifties. Co[m]es in handy for chase scenes. S[p]eaking of that, I thought of so[m]ething quick the two of you can do as a test. A scent-[m]arking video.”
R growls, curling his neck and licking his lips as he reaches around your shoulder and pulls you against his rock-hard flank. He licks your neck, bumping it with the tips of his teeth, making you instantly hard.
“[P]ercent sign. That’s when a dinosaur covers another in his scent so everyone around knows he’s so[m]eone’s [p]ro[p]erty. In your case, [m]y juice.”
You reach up and hold his claw. “My case?”
X turns and walks up the center, past the sets in progress. “We don’t do the urine shots indoors. Too much cleanu[p]. If it’s not your thing, you don’t have to do one of those. R dri[p]s so much we don’t need to fake it. He’s fa[m]ous in so[m]e countries for his leaky slit.”
“You wouldn’t have to do anything you haven’t already done,” R says, leading you by your ass. “Just let X get so[m]e shots of [m]e dri[pp]ing on you.”
“We won’t need a set. These will [b]e closeu[p]s. Are you ga[m]e to try?”
“It sounds fun,” you say, feeling R’s bicep.
R is digging his claws into you as he pulls your shirt off. The other dinosaurs are watching. The few other humans in the building also turn. You are hard at just the thought of being seen naked next to R.
*
Three cameras are going, three dinosaurs crouching and stalking around you, capturing this moment from different angles. X already told you they weren’t going to use the audio, so you can talk if you want to.
You are naked on the bare concrete, a small space heater off camera blowing warm air over you so you don’t freeze and lose your erection.
R’s statuesque bulk looms over you, slit dripping like a stringy waterfall. Two of the cameras are capturing it, while a third is on your face and your chest. As R moves over your raging boner, drenching it in clear fluid, you reach up and stroke his slit, making his dick slide out a little.
“Nice,” X says from behind one of the cameras on R’s slit. “You know what would [m]ake it hotter? If you tried to get away and R held you down.”
You rise slightly and try to scooch out from under R.
A foot rises up and slams onto your stomach, giant toe claw falling down, poking your skin. R’s dick slides out halfway, already longer and thicker than yours, shining with slit juice. He crouches lower, placing his cock on top of yours.
He presses one hand to your neck and holds your head down.
“Struggle a little,” X says.
You wiggle. R holds you down tighter. He lies down on you, his cock beside yours. Your face is squeezed between his pecs. After a few minutes like this, he suddenly gets up and stands over you, cock dangling down to your face, dripping all over you. This seems excessive even for him. His penis must love the camera.
So does yours. You lie there and accept the waterfall with your eyes open, gasping.
“Good reaction, excellent,” X says. “I think we have enough to [p]ut a test video together.”
R stands up. The three dinos stand up and switch off their cameras. Someone throws him a towel and he begins wiping himself. You know from experience even if he blows his load he doesn’t always stop dripping.
The observing humans offer thumbs up. The observing dinosaurs nod in your direction. A few of them applaud, which spreads to half the crew. You raise a fist and take a towel someone throws at you.
“Do I smell like R’s property?”
Lots of huffing and grunting and claws clicking on the concrete.
You hear O’s voice. “You have no idea.”
You laugh. “What would happen if someone else dripped on me? Could R tell?”
“It’s o[b]vious to us,” X says. “Scent... I wish you could understand what it [m]eans to us. Trust [m]e. You’re R’s co[mm]a. Can’t hide it from anyone who co[m]es within ten [p]aces of you.”
“How ‘bout that for a porn video? Just a line of dinosaurs marking me one after another.”
And now X straightens up, hand-claws unfolding. You swear his eyes brighten at the realization that you want to recreate that threesome. He turns to a few others. He’s speaking in his native language. O approaches. His posture changes from routine workday to stalking prey, and he eyes you. Several other dinosaurs are also eyeing you, including R, who gives his arms and chest a quick flex as he licks his lips.
X then turns around and stalks over to you, body moving behind him but head remaining completely still.
“Did you have so[m]ething in [m]ind?”
You set the towel on the floor, but you do not feel clean. “Actually yes. You have a retail set. Have you ever done this before?”
X listens. Clearly they have never done something like this before.
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4539730.James\_L\_Steele