0: The Dildo Sigil

Stan Kashola was shocked by the plan he had just overheard. The porn studio legend, who was credited with single-handedly reinvigorating the potential of video-on-demand services in the age of free downloading and online piracy, was now facing a new test to his income earning ingenuity. He was widely known for having opened up new porn film business models leveraging on-screen advertising, cross-promotional event spinoffs, and escort service platforms for his actors. But now, as he updated his accounting software with the product placement contracts he had organized for his upcoming Bulges&Biceps Studio feature, he heard the Managetti Twins talking about how they were planning to use some sort of seagull hypnotic suggestion, whatever that was, to get his film audience to buy their products.

Stan had always been slightly uncomfortable around the Managetti Twins since they premiered on the Pig Bastards brand a good five years ago. That discomfort only got stronger when he started working with them as their director a couple of years back. Their fucking-each-other routine didn’t bother him: each to their own, and audiences were increasingly into niche fetishes like that anyway, so it was good for business. And, if he was honest, they did take direction well on camera, never needed fluffing or extra time, and were reliable at arriving on set. But for the last few years especially, they seemed to have a creepy-as-shit, silent way of communicating with each other that he found disconcerting, mostly because it was out of his sphere of control.

Now he had heard them talking about plans to use Stan’s next movie (his movie!), to implant this seagull hypnotic suggestion or something. Stan only heard the tail end of the coded discussion between the lean-muscled, big-lipped, high-cheekboned Italian brothers, but it sounded like they were planning to give the popular Brazilian powerbottom, Mario Bonerz, a tattoo as a part of the plan. (Bonerz was immensely popular this year, but Stan had a feeling that the Danish ex-professional basketballer Casey Holton, who he was grooming to be the next major bottom on the studio’s Creamy Jizzers label, would far surpass the current interest in Mario.)

Studio gopher and fluffer Lukey Riggs innocently mentioned to Stan one day that his friends at rival studio, Salty Loads, had said that the Managettis were trying to build up their own business. They had apparently approached a few of the more popular actors on SL and offered them exclusive contracts for moulds of their penises for a new dildo line they were investing in. Stan overlooked admonishing Lukey for talking so openly with Salty Loads, the studio that Stan had once mentored by encouraging them to build up their amateur bareback aesthetic but with whom Stan had fallen out once they started to poach Stan’s own stable of actors. Lukey was, as always, oblivious to these kinds of politics, and his stream-of-conscious mouth often just blazed right past any tactful gossiping. Stan often downplayed his anger at the Salty Loads crew in front of Lukey so that he could use the blonde twink as his unwitting studio spy.

Stan felt sidelined that the Managetti Twins hadn’t come to him for advice or to craft a deal for placing the dildos in his movies, especially given that he was known in the industry as having successfully funded an entire production solely off on-screen product placement, where every prop used on camera was paid for through advertising, from the El Toro jockstraps and harnesses right down to the Skunkoff tobacco that was used to fill Daddy Pig’s signature pipe.

Stan DuckDuckGoed the internet to try and get a jump on what seagull hypnotism was. Nothing, unless he was meant to read that Jonathan Livingstone Seagull book again that was popular in his twenties, but he thought that would be a dead-end. That book reminded him of his old business school buddy Maynard Florentine, who would be interested in that type of hippy dippy shit. Stan was about to pick up his mobile and call his almost-forgotten associate, when Lukey Riggs knocked on his office door.

“I was just smelling the bed sheets from this afternoon’s shoot and I noticed there are some stains on them, shall I get them washed before we film some more?” Lukey asked, tucking his hands into his back pockets as if presenting himself fully to Stan, who, now standing, towered over the eager blonde youngster and was keen to make use of the boy. Stan started undoing his belt and as if in a Pavlovian response to the jangling of the belt buckle, Lukey slid off his tank top and got on his knees in front of the porn studio producer. Stan used his thumbs to pry open each side of the boy’s mouth and slowly slid his thick cock into the fluffer’s eager mouth. With the warm mouth around his bulging cock, Stan felt his shoulders relax slightly and it occurred to him how stressed he had been trying to work out the Managetti Twins’ plan and the potential risk they posed to his income stream.

Stan swirled his cock in and out of Riggs’ eager mouth, each withdrawal and re-plunge allowing Stan to push a little bit deeper until Riggs had gotten into a mouth-breathing rhythm that let Stan pick up speed. Long thick strands of saliva slid down Lukey’s chin onto his light blonde chest hair and muscle-toned chest. His nasal breathing became louder and more urgent as he kept sucking down Stan’s cock, letting his boss increase the pace even faster. Stan now grabbed a handful of Lukey’s soft blonde hair and throat fucked the early twentysomething. Stan could feel the boy’s nose and chin press up against his pubes, and then he would pull him back by his hair, then thrust his head forward again, fucking his mouth and throat with an angry urgency, watching the puddle of saliva dripping under Lukey, who knelt there, one hand behind his back as if in complete supplication, the other leaning on one of Stan’s thickly muscled legs so that he could angle his head in the best position to allow maximum cock penetration.

With a tense shudder, Stan exploded into Lukey’s mouth, holding the boy’s head against his pubes. He felt the swallowing contraction of the boy’s throat while his cock was still in it, and it made him shudder with a slight ticklishness. After a couple of deep pants, standing there, feeling slightly less agitated by whatever those creepy brothers were up to on his film set, Stan slowly withdrew his cock from Lukey’s mouth and helped the boy to his feet. Stan reached for the boy’s tank-top and handed it to him, as if to indicate he was dismissed before remembering that the boy had come in with a question.

“Yes, turn the sheets. Put the used ones in the laundry bag, you can take them home and smell them overnight if you like,” Stan chuckled at the innocent way Riggs had shared of his fondness for sniffing anything with a post-sex scent. The boy had a habit of dropping bombshells by innocently sharing whatever he was thinking.

As Lukey left the room, Stan’s mind went blank for a second until the blood rushed back up from his penis to his head, when he remembered he was about to call his old drug contact, Maynard Florentine.

After another film shoot (on new sheets), with Clark Dunsmore and Beech Hudson doing a fairly standard preppy scene (Stan had to shoot a few new shorts for the college jock site, Protein Snakes), Stan headed over to Bernal Heights to see his old buddy. Back in the day, if actors turned up too tired to work properly, Stan would rely on Maynard to provide some pickmeups so they could get the job done. Those days were long over and the last Stan heard, Maynard was now organizing some sort of yoga retreat.

“Ayahuasca retreat actually,” Maynard Florentine, long grey hair tied up in a bun, corrected him when he asked. “I bought some land in Novato and yeah, originally I opened a wellness retreat but the money is in Ayahuasca these days.” Florentine and Kashola had met during business school and shared a similar savviness for making money through unconventional industry sectors.

“What’s that like? I hear it is the new acid?” Stan had never really been into hallucinogens, or any drugs for that matter, so was asking out of politeness more than anything.

“Oh, I don’t know. I never take it,” Maynard dismissed the small talk with an are-you-crazy?-I’m-trying-to-run-a-business-here tone.

It was classic Maynard. Even when he was selling speed he never seemed to be wired on it himself. No wonder the two ranked top in their business studies classes.

Stan quickly cut to the reason for his visit. He explained how he had overheard the Managetti Twins talking about how they were going to encourage Mario Bonerz to get a tattoo of a seagull or something and then they could use that as a hypnotic suggestion in his movies. “What does that even mean?”

“Have they asked to do the music for your movie or anything? Are they in charge of the soundtrack?” Maynard asked after a moment’s pause. Stan shook his head. “There is a guy called Robert Seigel who does hypnotic recordings, but I guess it’s not that then. Are you sure they said seagull?”

“Actually, it sounded more like sea gel. Is that a thing?”

Maynard snapped his fingers loudly, and for a second, Stan could have sworn there was a thrum vibrating out over the room in the finger-snap after-sound. “I think I know what they are up to!” Maynard exclaimed.

“Sigil! They are making a sigil,” Maynard spoke definitely, as if he himself had been privy to the conversation that Kashola had said he overheard earlier that day, when they were talking about giving powerbottom Mario Bonerz a tattoo.

“Yes!” Stan remembered now more clearly. “They were saying they wanted to tattoo this sigil thingy on Mario Bonerz and that if they do, they can cause a hypnotic suggestion that will help their new dildo business.”

“Mario’s a bottom I take it?”

“He’s up for the Best New Bottom award at the Hustlaball this year, it is all he and my studio boy, Lukey Riggs, can talk about.“

“My bet is that the Managettis are trying to tattoo a sigil onto Mario Bonerz’s back,” Maynard undid his bun and shook his hair out to let it fall over his shoulders.

“What’s a-”

“A sigil is like a symbol. It was big in chaos magic a few years back. Basically, you write out what you desire on a piece of paper and then you remove all the vowels.” Maynard grabbed a piece of paper and wrote ‘everyone should buy our new dildos’. Then he went back over the note and crossed out the e’s, o’s, u’s and i. He looked up and met Stan’s eyes to make sure he was following along. The porn producer nodded slightly to confirm. “Then with the remaining letters you write them one on top of each other. Underneath the crossed out sentence, Maynard wrote the letter V, then over the top of it wrote an R, he hesitated over the Y, shrugged, wrote the Y and then the N quickly after. ”The letters on top of each other create a jumble image that doesn’t really represent the individual letters anymore. You then sort of clean that up until it looks like, say, a tribal tattoo.”

“But what is the point of that?” Stan understood the idea of a sigil now, and was impressed that Maynard’s hippy dippy shit extended to knowing this off the top of his head, but not why the Managettis would want to ink this on someone else’s body.

“Well, to activate a sigil, you generally have to hold the image in your mind’s eye while pushing a lot of spiritual energy at the same time. So, for example, if you held the image in your mind-”

“While having a wank!” It was Stan’s turn to click his fingers. No thrum, but maybe a little bit of a ping aftervibe, he thought.

“They say the more you activate a sigil successfully, and in this case the more people who are activating it, the more likely it will come true. I guessed Mario is a bottom because his back will probably be more on display in your movies, so there is greater chance people will be looking at that right at the time when they shoot their load,” Maynard shrugged, ipso facto.

“So if Mario has this tattoo on his back, and everyone is constantly watching him getting fucked while they are wanking, they will all be activating the power of that sigil,” Stan was stepping through the scenario. “And if the sigil is saying ‘go buy my dildos’ then everyone will be hypnotically suggestible to going out and buying the brand of dildo that the Managetti Twins have invested in.” And not the ones that will be product placed in an earlier scene of Jacked Jocks and Bulked Up Bottoms when I want to debut my new bottom super-sensation Casey Holton, he thought to himself.

As Stan returned to the studio lot, he was met at the door by a heavily tattooed guy carrying a large toolbox. “This is Bulges&Biceps Studios right?” The guy asked.

“And Creamy Jizzers, and Protein Snakes, and Pig Bastards,” Stan proudly listed the full stable of studios he worked on here. “What do you want?”

“I’m Jordi Kohl, I was booked to come over and give one of the actors a tattoo? Apparently he has a big scene coming up next week and wants a new tattoo for it.”

Stan was about to send the artist away at the door, marveling at his good luck to be able to ward off the unwitting chaos magician. But he had seen how the Managetti Twins operated for two years now. They were shady. They had a plan, for chrissakes, this wasn’t some impromptu idea. There were several steps to this arrangement they had plotted out. They wouldn’t suddenly just give up just because of a tattoo artist no-show.

“Welcome,” Stan smiled fakely, swept the door open, and led the ink gunner in.

He surveyed the warehouse room quickly. Diavolo Managetti was helping Mario onto a massage table, whispering lightly into his ear, while Nemico Managetti started striding over, handshake at the ready to welcome Jordi.

Time was running out, Stan needed to figure out a way to fix this. Through the window to the ProteinSnakes set, Stan could see Lukey holding a pair of jockstraps up to his nose, no doubt left over from the scene earlier that afternoon. He motioned for the fluffer to come into the main studio. Lukey stuffed the jockstraps down the front of his pants and came running.

As Riggs entered the main warehouse space, he saw Mario climbing onto the table and diverted to head over to his favorite actor. Relieved that Lukey had redirected towards Mario, Kashola was hoping the fluffer and studio gopher, who played with used jockstraps and talked about smelling bedsheets, would stumble into a conversation with the powerbottom.

“What are you doing Mario?” Lukey asked with genuine curiosity, trying to match up the scene with Mario lying on the massage table and Jordi opening up his toolbox to pull out little paint tubs and an electric inking gun.

Stan tried to make it look like he was heading to his office while nearing close enough to interrupt if he needed to kibosh the whole deal more obviously.

“I’m getting a tribal tattoo,” Mario smiled innocently. “Diavolo designed one especially for me.” As a muscle bottom, Mario was often caught up in just following along with whatever the nearest top told him to do. It was his gift, it was his curse, Stan thought, not for the first time.

“Really?” Lukey’s voice hit a high note. “But you are up for a Hustlaball award and you are the only one in your category who doesn’t have any tattoos. I thought that was part of your appeal?” Lukey asked.

Mario slid off the table with a jump. “Well… now that you mention that….” Mario’s eyes darted between Diavolo and Jordi and then he looked over to Stan, as if to ask for some sort of backup.

“Okay, maybe give it a little more thought,” Stan started walking over towards them all. “At least let’s wait til after the awards ceremony, it’s only three months away,” he suggested, trying not to smirk as he saw the Managetti Twins share a despondent look between them. Now he was starting to understand their code language, Stan realized. The two brothers glared at each other as if wanting to say something they didn’t have a code look for, so they both wordlessly started walking towards the exit. Lukey was hugging Mario and whispering soothingly into his ear. Stan lent over Jordi who still had the ink gun at the ready, now wondering where he was meant to point it.

Stan patted Jordi’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jordi, I know Casey Holton is looking for a tattoo at the moment, actually. I’ll go get him, but first, I just need to quickly go write something down in my office.”

Copyright Mark Boyd 2023