Not-So-Quiet-On-Set (m, mentions of f, gigantic-ish)

[Mr. Black Cherry Berry Tea]

So I was working at one point on a story set in a world where everybody has the fetish and short movies focusing almost entirely on sneezing occupies a sort of limbo between legitimate film and porn. And of course this world has bigger-than-realistic sneezes, but not like totally wildly ridiculously huge like some of my other stories. Anyway, I kinda ran out of steam to finish it, but after rereading it does sort of have a beginning middle and end so why not post it. Doesn't have any sneezes in it, but tons of talk about sneezing. And it sets up the world kinda. If anybody wants to follow up on this concept be my guest.

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“No, but, it’s just, you know… if I have a really big one…”

Half the set rolled their eyes; the other half had seen Ben’s amateur clips. “Ben blows up his bedroom,” “Ben blows away the beach,” “Ben blasts off,” etc., were all huge hits, with millions of views, thousands of comments. That was why Ben was even at the studio—that and the diligence of his manager-slash-best-friend Enrique-but-call-me-Pretty-Ricky, who had convinced the head of the studio to give a random guy with no acting experience a shot at a studio like Wilder-Wiederman (or technically Wilder-Wiederman-Duveaux, as of a very recent partnership).

Granted, it was on the lowest of the low-budget films. A sneeze short, they called it, practically just an excuse for a few hunky guys and sexy girls to have their noses tickled, maybe do a few dramatic holdbacks, spouting dialogue straight out of a pubescent fantasy: “Oh no, sir, I’m allergic to those flowers, they’re gonna make mehhhh… make me snuhhh… sneeze!” But the low budget didn’t matter. The director—the Katrina Duveaux—was what mattered.

But the director had not seen Ben’s amateur clips. So the director had no idea what would happen if Ben had “a really big one.” But the director had seen a succession of obnoxious guys claiming that their sneezes were so huge that they’d blow away the camera. Hell, Trina Duveaux had seen it all and then some. So Trina Duveaux could only respond,

“Yeah yeah, pretty boy.”—he was a pretty boy, to say the least. Even Trina, annoyed as she was by this lowball shoot (for a partner in the firm!), could acknowledge that—”pretty boy, I know, you’ve got the very biggest sneezes of anybody that’s ever come to my studio, and you—unlike every other guy in Los Angeles with blue eyes, a nice smile, and an itchy nose—will blow the studio to bits if your nuke of a schnoz gets tickled the wrong way. But let’s be real.” Trina said, talking three flawlessly dramatic steps towards the setup where this Ben boy stood, a few feet from Madison with the camera in her hand, ready to start the shoot, if only Trina could get this kid to shut up and get to work.

“You aren’t any different than every other guy in Los Angeles. You’re hot, sure, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You’ve got big sneezes, sure, and I’m sure every guy and every girl in Nowheresville, Iowa has told you you’ve got the very biggest sneezes of anybody in the world. Which,” she paused, “by the way, I’m pretty sure that prize belongs to yours truly.” She sniffed for emphasis, and gave her classic hair toss, the one everyone who watched her films—so basically everyone—grew up loving. Her nose twitched just once, the way she’d trained herself to do. “If anyone’s blowing this studio down, it’s me, right team?”

A few murmured assents. Trina watched out of the corner of her eye. Ben’s reaction was exactly what she expected. He was practically drooling. He’d eat out of the palm of her hand.

“Now,” she said, getting closer to Ben, getting in his space, so much so that they were practically touching… “hit your mark, sniff the flowers or whatever fluff they’ve got you, and do what I tell you to do, okay?” she was practically whispering by the end, half purr, half warning. And with that, she turned around, marched back towards her director’s chair, and called out: “Alright, let’s get the kid his fluff and let’s get this shot done, shall we?”

“Fluff?” Ben asked, too low for Trina to notice. He wanted to ask somebody else what exactly this “fluff” was supposed to be, and he really hoped nobody was about to bring out any kind of fluffy animal… Ben tended to have an extremely explosive reaction to fluffy fur. But whatever THE Katrina Duveaux told him to do, he’d do, even if that meant the biggest, baddest, blowingest explosion his nose could create. Hell, putting on a show like that for Katrina… even if he did blow over a camera or something… well it didn’t sound half-bad if Ben was being completely honest.

But it turned out “fluff” just meant some very pollen-y looking daisies. Ben was allergic to daisies—he already felt an itch forming in his nose just at the sight of them—but they weren’t one of his worst allergens, not by a longshot. If he held back a bit, he probably wouldn’t topple the camera. Probably.

[SleepingPhlox]

If you did work more on this that would be awesome, though.   I am already intrigued by the set up.  I love the concept and the setting, and I adore Trina from her dialogue. 

[Demosthenes]

I don't usually go for male sneeziness, but this is a great idea and a wonderfully written intro.  Thanks!

[PennyLane]

I'm absolutely drooling over this concept! I'd love to see it continue!

[SterlingSilver]

Love this concept!! The dialogue is great. You always deliver with the awesome prose, Mr. Tea! 

[justme]

Loving this, really hope to see a few of Trina’s legendary sneezes 

[dragonko]

I would absolutely LOVE to see where this goes! Ben sounds dreamy!

[HideAndGoSneeze]

Oh! I love this so much! Paints the picture in my mind and everything! I missed your writing!

[AntheaHolmes]

I love a male with messy and big sneezes. Would love to read more. 

[Vipiyoh]

I can’t wait to read more!