Show more skin

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humiliation Sex  |  House: Stripping and Humiliation

Roger Reed is a has-been movie actor now working in television, specifically a cable series "Ryan P.I." where he plays a middle-aged private detective in Florida. Roger remains almost as fit as he was in hie glory movie star days of the 80s and 90s. However, he is not keen on baring his body like he used to in his movies, where it was almost a given they're be at least one shirtless scene.

Roger always had "no nudity" clauses in his movie contracts. For his television contract, he was unable to negotiate this aspect, but it didn't worry him that much because, hey, it was TELEVISION.

Then one day Roger's agent presents him with the script of the next episode to be filmed. It is entitled "The Bare Detective." In it, Roger has a revealing scene where he is required to swim in a pool wearing only tighty whities. The point of the scene, to Roger, is to humiliate his character by showing off his body gratuitously.

Roger protests, ultimately to no avail, and finally, he winds up even losing his underwear.

Roger Reed, 50, a slightly hirsute man's man, former stuntman turned mega box office star in the 80s and 90s, now a cable TV star on a moderately successful detective series, has just received (and read) the latest script for his show, where he plays a private eye named Roger Ryan. He is on the phone with his agent, Felix Bart.


FB: The network wants you to show more skin. Viewers have been requesting it. Your movies are being shown more than ever due to the series. You ought to be flattered, Roger. You just turned 50.

RR: I am an actor, not a centerfold. There's beea topless scene in the last THREE episodes. This swimming scene is stupid. Roger gets drunk, goes back to the hotel, finds the pool empty, and decides to take his clothes off and sober up by swimming in the pool. In  his tighty whities. Roger Ryan would not wear tighty whities. He would wear fucking boxers.

FB: Maybe you can negotiate that. But I should tell you that the studio suggested I inform you to get a Speedo tanline.

RR: Speedo tanline my ass. I am not gonna undress "drunkenly" in front of this crew. They don't like me. Who's directing this fucking episode?

FB: Your pal Jean. Maybe she'll intervene. Hey, it could be worse. It could be Abe Hicks.

RR: Hmmm. Maybe. I don't like it, the scene is four pages! I'll be wet and virtually naked on screen for almost five fucking minutes, which means I'll be virtually naked on set for quadruple that, at least. I'll have to work out all week. I hate working out in the summer.

FB: Sorrry, Rog. But you have special guest star Marva Evans in this episode. Class.

RR: Oh, Felix, she's just an Oscar-winning limey lush slumming. She's been after me for years to fuck her, that's why she took the role.

FB: It is what it is. The studio has promised to beef up publicity for this episode. Hey, look at this way, maybe we'll get the gay audience, finally.

RR: Great. That's ALL I need. The gays on the crew leer at me enough.

FB (laughing): Hey, if you got it, flaunt it. Listen, I gotta run. Better hit the gym, my friend!

RR: Fuck you.

They hung up. Roger opened a bottle of bourbon. it was 10:30 in the morning on a Monday. Shooting would commence in a week.

Roger sulked all day, but he began to learn his lines. He'd work out tomorrow. Fuck them.

But for dinner, Roger had only a salad.

The next day, begrudgingly, Roger lifted weights in his bungalow near the set. He also went for a jog, and was greeted by many fans along the way. Roger Reed was a dark-haired, tall man, a former college football star, a stuntman, and naturally athletic, so he had always been in shape. However, he found that once he hit 45, it required more work to keep his famous, trim, hairy-chested chest looking like it did twenty years previous.

Roger jogged in a tank top. He would not dare to jog in this Florida community shirtless. It had a lot of gays. As it was, Roger noticed several pictures being taken of him as he ran.

Once he returned to his house, Roger stripped naked and showered, then timidly exaamined himself nude in front of the mirror.

One big reason Roger had insisted on a no nudity (or more to the point, no FRONTAL nudity) clause in his contracts was: the size of his dick.

It was two inches soft and his balls weren't much to write home about either. Roger's ass was hairy but firm and sexy. Women liked his ass. Once Roger was erect and plowing them, women liked his cock.

But Roger had never shown his ass on camera, except for a very brief scene in a 90s movie where he got out of bed naked and threw on pants in semi-darkness. He'd hated the scene and had argued against it, but the director was hot at the time and had told him, "We have to show your ass. My wife demands it." Roger remembered he'd almost gotten physically ill the day of that shoot, fearing that someone would get a glimpse of his family jewels. Roger vetoed up front from then on: NO MORE SHOTS OF MY BUTT.  And Roger had absolutely NEVER shown his penis on camera.

Roger was further chagrined when that particular movie was usually shown unedited on broadcast TV, which meant kids, grannies, pervs in airports (and airplanes) and gay bars (!) and horny women in beauty parlors could get a look at his manly ass. And off course, the scene was fairly constant on the internet, in slow motion no less.

The scene also got Roger one of his most creepy fan letters: "I will shave your hairy ass for you, so you can show more skin." Roger had thrown the letter in the trash. Really, he thought.

Hmm. SHOW MORE SKIN. Sounds familiar, thought Roger as he stared at his completely naked body in the mirror. He worried about his fans. "They need to think I'm the God of my salad days" was his mantra. 

Besides, only a handful of big stars have shown their dicks, reasoned Roger. Richard Gere. Viggo Mortensen. the lesser-known Perry King (who was endowed). The others who don't show it off are probably not much bigger than me, Roger told himself. One actress he'd fucked told him, "You have a small one, but it sure does the job once it's filled out." Roger had asked her to be discreet, and so far, she had. Roger preferred not to let his paramours see him fully naked in light. He'd feign shyness ("and my Christian upbringing") if this was requested, claiming he was more comfortable with the lights off and just hop in the sack and get things rolling. Most women found this endearing, although a few privately mocked him afterwards. But Roger was such a handsome fellow and talent-wise, a cut above the usual Hollywood beef slabs. And he was a gentleman with the ladies, which went a long way in an industry where this was not always the norm.

Roger's pubic bush was extensive, which made his genitals look even more insubstantial. I am worshipped, thought Roger, but I cannot let them see me completely naked.

Roger's chest was moderately hairy, not overly so, and he had no hair on his back. His armpits were bushy. His nipples were ordinarly looking but they'd get hard and push through the black chest hair if he was turned on enough.

Roger shuddered at his nakedness, imagining the mostly twenty-something crew of his show staring at his bare body. Roger had never been the favorite of film crews, he had attitude. His favorite director on this show, Jean Hill, was praised in the industry for being able to handle his moods. His least favorite director on the show was Abe Hicks, a sixty-year old TV veteran who had no patience with prima donnas, male or female. Roger knew Abe thought Roger to be an empty hot-looking masculine vessel of minimal talent. Roger chalked it up to the fact that Abe was fat. But Abe had won ten Emmys; he had clout with the studio.

Thank God Hicks wasn't assigned to this episode. Roger knew Hicks would make the shoot hell and probably even try to belittle him. He'd done it before. Hicks drank, but he was proficient and he knew how to cut corners and get episodes in the can sometimes even ahead of schedule.

Roger's young, excellent make-up man, Bobby, was gay. Roger tolerated the gays, but he didn't like it when they lusted after him openly. Bobby was happily married to a nice guy named Buddy, so Roger didn't have a beef when Bobby complimented him occasionally. But Roger was not looking forward to stripping to undies particularly in front of Bobby. And Roger knew that when he emerged wet from the pool in those wet undies, his modest manhood would be pretty much visible, clinging to the garment along with his asscrack and manly buns.

Roger just HAD to get Jean to change the undies into boxer shorts, preferably dark ones. Dark boxers would hide Roger's shameful secrets.

Roger did not want to show more skin than he absolutely had to. He had an image to maintain. Roger Reed would not allow them to show him nude on camera. He had his reasons.

All two inches of them.


Roger got the script down cold. It was actually pretty good except for the stupid pool scene. Marva Evans had plenty of pithy lines (at which she excelled), and the identify of the villain was a good twist. Roger himself had some zingy one-liners.

Roger jogged, worked out and dieted. He decided after this episode was shot that he would go to McDonald's and blow $60.

Since this was Florida in August, it was hot as hell. Roger kept himself hydrated throughout the day.

On Friday, three days before filming of "The Bare Detective," Felix called Roger.

FB: Hi guy. Got yer lines down?

RR: Yeah. I still don't want to do that DAMN pool scene as written.

FB: Work it out with Jean on Monday, or you could call her. Have you tried calling her?

RR: She hates that. She won't answer.

FB: Roger, just get through it. It's so hot, I''d think you'd enjoy shooting this little pool thing. A nice morning shoot in a pool. I envy you, buster. I'll be driving around in a damn suit. And it will show off your body. 

RR: i don't want to show off my body on television!

Roger strongly believed that if he were required to take off his clothes, it should be back on the big screen, where he belonged, and for a PAYING audience.


Bobby cuddled his husband Buddy on the couch as they watched one of Roger Reed's old movies on TV.

Bobby: You gotta come by the set on Monday. Roger is gonna be basically naked.

Buddy laughed.

Bobby: No seriously. All he'll have on is a wet pair of white briefs. It'll be hilarious.

Buddy: Is he OK with that?

Now Bobby laughed: Definitely not. He is livid and he is still trying to get them to rewrite it. But I have it on authority that they're sticking to their guns. They want him to show more skin. I mean, he still looks good even if he's almost 50.

Buddy: Agreed. But he's so vain, he's probably freaking out that he'll be mocked by some of the trades.

Bobby: Whatever. He deserves to be mocked. One day I commented on his nipples. I said someething like, gee whiz, Roger, your nipples are hard today. He was wearing a tank top for the scene and as I did his makeup, I could see his tits. He lit into me like I'd insulted him. I did not mean it lasciviously. I can't wait for him to be cut down to size, and I am NOT alone.

Buddy: I can't wait for this either. Once he said to me, "Buddy, for a gay, you're pretty butch." Please. A bared Roger Reed. I'll take pics of his little hard nips. I'll drive you to set on Monday and just hang out.

Bobby giggled. He said, "They're really not that little, especially when they're pert."

Buddy giggled also. He decided that if he had the chance, he would re-watch, alone, the DVD of Roger's movie "Night Dick." It was the only film a nude Roger had briefly showed his butt. Roger had played a cop named Dick. The movie had been a big hit. eons ago. In gay bars, "Night Dick" was shown often as background eye candy. It had an unusual number of shirtless scenes for Roger--beach, gym, jogging, getting out of the shower, changing clothes, etc. The relentless over-exposure of Roger's body in this movie was almost comical, but quite appealing to audiences. Roger had been in the best shape of his life. And the big-budgeted movie had a good, snappy script, was slickly photographed, and only 100 minutes long. It had even been nominated for an Oscar, for film editing.

The poster of the film was pure homoeroticism. A shirtless, jeans clad Roger Reed, holding a pistol, standing before a backdrop of Hollywood. The poster was unusually detailed. The bulge in Roger's jeens was pure 70s porn. Above the pic of Roger was emblazoned: "ROGER REED IS NIGHT DICK." Many gay teenage boys had the poster in their bedrooms, telling their parents that they loved Roger's cop movies.

Buddy chuckled. "Tighty-whities out of a swimming pool. The writers have it in for him."

Bobby then knew the world-famous, hunky Roger Reed was about to be stripped and humiliated. And probably thoroughly so.

Bobby then decided to play a little prank. Before he went to bed, he called Jean Hill, and then Jean Hill called Abe Hicks.

Abe Hicks then called every crew member he possibly could in the next 36 hours. He also texted Marva Evans, the actress with "special guest" billing in "The Bare Detective." Abe knew Marva loved jokes.

And Abe thought Roger Reed to be a BIG joke with undeserved success. Humiliating this guy would be fun!

Over breakfast the next morning, Bobby informed his husband of his prank. Buddy responded with gusto. They had sex in the living room while "Night Dick" played on the big screen TV.


Roger had his own trailer on set. It was near the beach motel the studio had rented for the shoot. The motel was empty except for crew members and staff.

The pool was a large one. It was in the middle of the two-story, aqua-painted motel, which was on the beach.

Roger arrived on time: 6:30 a.m.

Present were Marva Evans, Bobby (and his boyfriend Buddy!), all the crew. And all the staff, mulling about. Crafts services had set up a pretty good spread of breakfast items.

Roger made pleasantries with the ultra-glamorous Marva, who was drinking ccffee and eating an orange. He kept it brief; Marva had one of her cryptic smiles on her face, which made Roger uneasy. Marva was wearing a flowing beachy dress costume which kind of showed off her breasts.

Roger fretted. He glanced around. Where was Jean Hill, the director?

Roger stuck his hand in the pool. It was chilly but not freezing. Roger hoped the sun would warm it up. At least it WAS sunny today. The temp was supposed to hit ninety by noon and there was no rain forecasted.

Jenny, the wardrobe mistress, approached Roger and informed him that his "entire" wardrobe was in his trailer. Roger had arrived on set wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants over boxers. It was kind of chilly in the morning here, but Roger knew that would quickly change. He kept T-shirts and shorts in his trailer.

Roger went to the trailer and poured himself a tiny shot of vodka. He was nervous. He'd had a breakfast bar and coffee at his bungalow but would not eat anything else until after the dreaded pool scene was over and done with.

The pool scene was to be shot first. Felix had requested this on Roger's behalf, just to get it over with, and the studio had agreed.

Roger examined his wardrobe for the upcoming stripping drunk swimming scene. It was a black button down shirt, snug jeans, boots, socks, and A VERY TIGHT PAIR OF RATHER SHEER WHITE BRIEFS.

Roger frantically texted Jean Hill. There was no answer.

From outside, Roger was given ten minutes notice to show up on set. He queasily undressed and put on his "costume."

Another call from outside: "Five minutes."

Roger called Felix. "Something is not right. Jean's not on set."

Felix rssponded: "Maybe she's sick."

Roger panicked. "She CAN'T be sick. I need to consult with her."

Felix replied, "Tough break, Rog. Listen, I gotta run. Good luck." Felix hung up.

There was then a harsh rap on his trailer door. "Reed, you're holding us up."

It was the garrulous voice of the dreaded Abe Hicks.

OH MY GOD, thought Roger. Not this. Please not this.

"Yoo hoo!" trilled Marva from outside. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"  Then, she giggled, and Roger heard the crew joining her.

I don't like this, thought Roger. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked great, he had to admit. But he was clothed, and soon, these clothes were coming off.

Roger had another tiny shot of vodka.

"REED!!" Abe bellowed from outside. "Get out here and show some skin!!!"

Everyone outside laughed and whooped it up. Roger felt ill.

Very reluctaantly, Roger openeed his trailer door and was greeted to the sight of grinning crew members. Bobby ran over to him.

"Hurry Roger, we gotta to your makeup," said Bobby. "Jean had a fall in her apartment. Abe is directing the episode."

"Fuck," growled Roger, striding over to his makeup chair, where Buddy, Bobby's GAY husband, was sitting nearby, reading a newspaper.

Abe and Marva were good to go, and they peered at Roger with interest.

Abe barked, "Get him ready, we're beginning to run late."

Bobby seated Roger and swiftly did his makeup. Roger had good skin, and Bobby merely had to work with that mininmally to make Roger look his regular handsome self. Also, Roger did not like a lot of makeup.

All made up, Roger was approached by Abe.

"OK, Reed," said Abe. "Let's just do this. I want you to go over there by the side door of the pool, come in drunk, and do a slow strip tease all around the pool, then end up at the shallow end and simply just fall into the water and swim all the way to the deep end, then climb out of the pool on the ladder, and make  your way back to that lounge chair over there where Marva will show up later and say her line, then just say your lines, continue the scene, and so on. I want you to lay on your back when you lie on the lounge chair."

"Abe, it was agreed that I would play the scene lying on my stomach," admonished Roger.

Abe sighed. "We'll do it your way first, but YOU WILL play the scene on your back in an alternate take."

Roger shuddered and vowed to make the first take so perfect there would be NO NEED to shoot an alternate take.

Abe then informed him, "You may aa well get used to the fact that I'm shooting this from different angles with both stationary and hand held caremas, so you'll be going swimming more than once. You will only have to strip your clothes off once, unless you fuck that up, so give it 200 percent the first time. Just concentrate on the scene, don't worry about the cameras. They'll move around YOU. When we do the retakes, we'll pick up right before you fall drunkenly into the water."

Roger swallowed hard. The crew was listening to all this, and they were laughing. Marva was giggling loudly. A little girl was hovering next to the gaffer.

"WHO IS THAT CHILD?" Roger complained.

Abe dismissively said, "Her mom's sick. She had to come in with her daddy today."

"She is all of six," Roger complained.

"I don't care," said Abe. "Go on, get over to your mark."

Roger glowered. He walked over to the side door of the pool's entrance, amidst undisguised tittering, giggling, and chuckling from all of the crew. Marva made herself scarce. She would enter momentarily into camera view, but for now, she hid behind other crew members. But she was watching, and she could see everything about to transpire.

Roger stood behind the little pool door, which came up to his waist. He was already embarrassed. And now he had to play drunk.

Roger wished he WAS drunk.

"Action!" spat Abe.

Roger, feigning drunkeness, wobbled into the pool area, staggering. He made a point to stare at the water. Then he grinned stupidly and sat down on a lounge chair and took off his boots and socks.

Then, he stood up, wobbled alongside the pool, and began to unbutton his shirt. He was very nervous. He got the shirt unbuttoned as a camerman followed him and moved around him like a gazelle. Roger took the shirt off and let it fall to the ground. By this time, he had reached the end of the right side of the pool.

Then, Roger, his heart beating a mile a minute, began to take off his pants. He at first did this as he was walking, then decided that his character would probably stumble around more at this point, and lowered his pants to his knees and comically (he hoped) staggered around, trying to walk to the left side of the pool. Roger knew that he was now being seen in those infernal tighty whities. The crew was professional, so Roger heard not a word from them, although if he had heard what they were whispering and seen what they were texting, he would not have been pleased.

(They were also of course taking pics with their phones.)

Roger decided his character would be by now frustrated with the pants inhibiting his movements, and plopped down on a chair and just shucked them off.

He was now only wearing tight, sheer white briefs. Under the sun, it would be obvious Roger had dark pubes (which Roger had trimmed) and male genitalia, and his asscarck and tight buns would be clearly visible as well.

Roger stood up and wobbled to his destination: the shallow end of the pool. He ignored the shocked looks of any crew member he had the misfortune to glance at. The little girl stared at him, smiling. And pointing.

Roger wanted to cover himself, but at this point his only option was the water of the swimming pool. Not exactly a thrilling alternative. But it was in the script anyway.

Roger fell into the pool with a comic splash. The water was not warm, which wasn't going to help Roger's plight. Roger submerged his body and swam to the deep end, trying to remain underwater, completely, knowing he was going to be required to emerge from the pool on the ladder at the corner of the left side of the deep end of the pool.

Climbing out of the pool.

Clad only in soaking wet, sheer tighty whities.

In front of about 30 people, including a six-year-old.

Roger got to the ladder. He mounted it, glancing down at his crotch to see just how bad this was going to look.

He was horrified.

His penis and balls were completely visible through the fabric. Not to mention his pubes. His cock was shriveled. His balls weren't much more substantial. 

Roger heard gasps.

He knew he had to keep going. GET TO THE LOUNGE CHAIR AND COVER YOUR FRONT was his mission in life right now.

Roger climbed out of the pool, his considerable musculature glistening sensually. From the back, nothing looked too bad. The crew took copious pics.

Roger's asscrack was dark, deep, wet, and most hilariously, completely visible through the frankly useless underwear.


When poor Roger began to walk towards the chair, he inadvertently bent over as if this would give him cover. It just made him look embarrased (which he was). Roger's face was fire-engine red.

The little girl giggled and was shushed.

Abe grinned ear-to-ear. FINALLY, he thought. I have this cocky bastard JUST WHERE I  WANT HIM. Abe chuckled to himself: maybe "cocky" is not the right word here. Reed was Mr. Micropenis.

Bobby and Buddy gaped. Bobby whispered to Buddy, "He is dying inside."

Buddy replied, "He is humiliated. I have a hard-on."

Bobby giggled. "So do I. We're wicked."

The couple tried to restrain themselves as they did not want to disrupt the scene, but the giggling and chuckling from everyone was already beginning to ruin it, which meant itt would have to be reshot, no question, at least once.

Roger, wet and humiliated, made it to the chair and collapsed on it. On his stomach.

Abe allowed the crew to giggle and take pics. He knew this take was toast. He even took pics of his own. He looked at Reed, wet in his clinging undies, his ass exposed more or less, his crack hilariously visible. Abe waved at Marva to stay away from the shot, as she was supposed to enter at this point. Marva grinned, and she stared at Roger's body. She knew he was humiliated. She loved it. She had always loved it when one of these Hollywood studs turned out to have the endowment of a four-year-old boy.

"CUT!" yelled Abe.

Roger screamed for a towel.

Marva commented to Bobby: "Heavens. He has no cock. Decent arse, though. Poor man."

Marva recorded the scene with her phone, relishing the audio of the hysterical Roger Reed practically begging for a towel.

No one seemed to be looking for a towel.

Abe strolled over to Roger, quivering on the lounge chair, still with no towel, still "wearing" only wet skimpy briefs which showed off the idiot's ass.

Abe chuckled. "Well, we're gonna have to shoot most of that again. The crew couldn't stop laughing. I guess they liked your performance."

Roger bellowed, "Abe, get me a fucking towel."

Abe knew he would have to play this carefully but he was enjoying Roger's situation. 

"Yo, Bobby!" Abe yelled. "Get me a towel for our star. He is wet."

Bobby was kind of miffed. He was not in wardrobe. But Buddy whispered, "Get him a towel. We're not nearly done with this, anyway."

Bobby found a towel and walked it overr to the shivering, angry, humiliated Roger, who snatched it and hurriedly wrapped it around his waist.

Abe then said, "OK, Reed. I'm satisfied with yout strip. Nicely done. We'll start with when you fall into the pool."

Roger fumed. "These briefs are wet. Get me some boxers."

Abe laughed. "Nah. We're sticking with the briefs. Everyone likes them. Where's wardrobe?"

Jenny raced over. "Yes, Mr. Hicks?"

Abe gently inquired, "Can you find a dry pear of underwear for Mr. Reed? Same brand. I do not want boxer shorts."

Jenny smiled. "I'll see what I can do." 

Jenny hated Roger Reed, so she relished this opporunity to embarrass him in public.

She skipped off and returned with an even smaller version of the tighty whities. She had planned this in advance, just in case. She knew Roger's measurements, so to speak, although she had been dumbfounded when she got a gander at Roger's "manhood" through the wet fabric of his underwear.

"This is all I could find," Jenny pouted. "Hope it works."

Abe took the garment from the sincere, pretty wardrobe mistress. He held it up. He laughed. "This will be fine."

Roger looked in horror at the "replacement" underwear. "I don't think so," Roger said firmly.

"It's either this or I'll have you do it naked," Abe retorted. "And don't think I won't. The studio has given me free reign on this episode. They want you to show more skin."

"If I hear that phrase ONE MORE TIME....." Roger grimaced.

Abe handed the flimsy little pair of underwear to his humiliated star. 

"Go put it on and get it back out here, pronto, Reed," Abe admonished.

Roger, simmering with rage, grabbed the underwear and stalked back to his trailer, in a towel, amidst raucous laughter from the crew. The crew didn't even bother hiding their merriment. Roger did not make eye contact with anyone.

Roger got inside his trailer and poured a big glass of vodka. He drank it. He looked at the new underwear.

Then he stripped and tried it on.

They have got to be kidding, thought Roger, as he looked at himself in the mirror.

The new underwear was even more snug and it did not even cover the top of Roger's pubic hair. Roger tugged on the waistband to no avail. He was going to have to re-appear with his pubes clearly visible at the top of the underwear. Roger grabbed his clippers and trimmed himself.

He almost had to trim the pubes completely, which he did not want to do.

He trimmed enough to save face, but just barely.

Roger knew that once he was wet again, he would be the butt of jokes and ridicule. He poured himself another shot of booze.

Slow down, Reed, he told himself, staring at his barely clad body in the mirror. Dignity.

The laughter outside had not abated. It was almost as they were having a party.

He heard someone--a male--say gleefully, "what the fuck was that, an inch?"

And this, from another man: "Roger's REED is a stem!"

Boisterous, jeering laughter. Roger simmered with rage.

Then there was a rap on the door. "REED!!! SHOWTIME!!!!"

Roger found a bathrobe and threw it on. Filled with dread, he opened the door to his trailer and stepped out, to applause. Roger smiled meekly. He knew he was being made fun of already.

Abe waved him over. "OK, Reed. Just take the robe off and go to the edge of the pool, stand there for a bit, and then fall into the water just like last time, and take it from there."

Roger squirmed. "Why do I have to 'stand there for a bit'?"

Abe grunted, "Because. Don't fuck with me. We can do this all day, you know."

Roger huffed. "You just want them to gawk at me."

Abe laughed. 'I really don't care. You knew this scene was coming. Don't blame me. I didn't write it."

Then Abe dismissivly consulted with his crew. Roger stood there, not moving. 

"Robe, Reed," Abe drearily instructed.

The crew eagerly awaited what would happen next.

Bobby and Buddy smoked a joint. Abe allowed this on his sets.

Marva sipped a clandestinely poured scotch. This was only television anyway and she had an Oscar.

Roger took off the robe and motioned for Jenny to hold it. "Jenny, please make sure I have quick access to this when the scene is finished."

Jenny had never actually been this close to Roger in such a state of undress. She felt flush. Cock or no cock, Roger did have a great body.

"Certainly, Mr. Reed," Jenny replied sweetly. "I'll put it over there, out of shot but close to the lounge chair."

Roger steeled himself. "Good. Thanks."

The gigglng had started up again. "Abe," Roger barked. "Control them, please."

Roger now stood in front of everyone wearing only even tighter white briefs. The sun bore down on him. These briefs were just as sheer as the previous ones, and you could easily make out Roger's buns, his crack, his pubes, and, kind of, his junk.

The little girl squealed. "Daddy, why does that man keep taking his clothes off?"

The gaffer replied, 'Honey, he's an actor."

Abe barked, "Everybody shut up. Ready, Reed?"

Roger gulped. "Yes." He walked to the edge of the shallow end of the pool.

"Oh, Reed," Abe casually said, 'This time, when you get to the chair, lie down on yourr back and stretch out with your arms above your head."

Roger blanched. "Are you serious?"

Abe chuckled, "Absolutely. Again, we can do this as many times as you wish, so just do as I say, please. We've already seen everything."

"Such as it is,"  Marva teased.

Roger turned red.

Abe, all no-nonsense now, screeched, "ACTION!"

Roger stood frozen, then remembered he was supposed to be drunk, contemplating a dip in the pool. Since Roger had consumed a few drinks, he summoned up that sensation. Then he threw himself into the water.

Roger swam underwater. To his surprise, there was a cameraman in the pool, filming his swimming.

Roger told himself not to react to this in the shot. He'd just have to do it again if he ruined this underwater footage. But he wasn't thrilled with the fact that the cameraman, who was wearing a bathing suit, seemed intent on getting extremely close to Roger's frontal exposure.

Ruger made it to the ladder once more. 

His nightmare then got worse.

Roger climbed out of the pool.

The briefs clung to him. Roger did not dare look down. He wandered down to the lounge chair. He couldn't believe the amount of exposure he would now have to experience.

Roger was able to see the grinning faces of the crew. And their camera phones. Roger had asked Abe, privately, to prohibit cell phones, but Abe had simply replied, "I cannot stop them from that. Don't ask me again. Call your lawyer, or your agent, or the studio. It is not my job, Reed."

Miserable, Roger collapsed on the lounge chair, clad only in tight, wet briefs. He still did not DARE look down his body. He perfunctorily threw his arms up over his head.

He had never felt so exposed.

Marva wandered over to deliver her first line.

"Mr. Ryan, so good to see, er, ALL of you."

As Roger Ryan, private investigator, Roger Reed replied, "I thought I'd take a dip."

Marva, as "Tamarind Owens," a rich socialite, ogled Roger "Ryan's" nearly naked body. "Obviously," she giggled. "Don't you own a swimsuit?"

Roger Reed was then, humiliatingly, required to deliver this line: "This is all I could find. It's the latest thing."

Tamarind then says, "Well, it certainly shows off your charms."

Every crew member bit their cheeks or their tonuges to keep from bursting out laughing.

Bobby had to run to a corner to suppress his giggling. Buddy just stared at Roger, who was blushing furiously.

With good reason, Buddy thought to himself. Roger's pubes were matted against his skin, dark and apparently a bit manscaped. If the manscaping was an attempt to make Roger's penis and balls look more substantial, it had failed.

Roger Reed's penis was barely two inches, and his contracted scrotum was almost pathetic. Buddy was amazed. He was also about to cum in his pants. Buddy was heavily into humiliation scenarios, and this was the best he had EVER experienced.

Abe just recorded the scene, with audio. This was priceless.

Roger, in agony, just laid there, as the crew drooled over and/or mocked his exposed body. He couldn't remember his next line. He became frantic. He did not want to do this scene again. Two camerman were hovering near him, getting extreme close-ups Roger knew would never be aired. At least he hoped not.

Finally, he ad-libbed this: "My charms are charming, I know."

Suddenly, Roger remembered, that was the actual line. Roger shuddered at the implications.

Tamarind then replies, with a leer, "Your outfit certainly gives new meaning to the term 'private investigator'. Or should I say 'PRIVATES'?"

"CUT!!!!!!!!!!" Abe shouted. And the entire crew burst into laughter. The little girl laughed merrily and pointed at Roger.

Roger looked around for the robe in the location Jenny had placed it. It was not there.

"ROBE!!!!!!!!!!" Roger yelled, to gales ot laughter.

Then suddenly Abe had a brilliant, albeit sadistic, idea.

Bobby looked around for a robe, or a towel, or anything to cover the humiliated Roger Reed, although he did this leisurely. He found a robe wadded up in a corner. He retrieved it and rushed over to Roger (again, leisurely) and handed the precious robe to the embarrassed, exposed, wet, beet-red actor. Roger grabbed the robe with fury.

Roger, enraged, threw on the robe, as everyone giggled.

Abe approached his embattled star.

"OK, Reed," Abe drawled. "One more take."

"Abe, no, not another one," Roger protested. "How can you do this to me?"

Abe was adamant. He told his assistant to get the studio head on the phone.

She did. Abe chatted with Charlie Bishop, the studio head, then he handed the phone to Roger, telling him "CB wants to talk to you. Now.".

Roger was startled. He took the phone: "Mr. Bishop?"

Charlie Bishop (CB): "What' going on, Mr. Reed?"

Roger grieved, "They're exploiting me in this scene, Charlie. I'm almost naked."


He then said to Roger, "Hate to tell you this, Roger. But in the next take, you WILL BE NAKED."

Roger sensed meance in CB's voice. He stammered, "Wh--wh---what do yo mean, CB?"

CB sneered over the phone: "We want you to show more skin. In fact, we want you to show ALL YOUR SKIN. It's for the overseas markets."

Roger was now in full panic mode. Suddenly the skimpy underwear seemed quite precious to him.

"What the fuck are you talking about, CB?" Roger managed to squawk.

"Abe will explain it to you. He has my full support. What he tells you to donext, you'd better do it, or you will be fired. And I will allow leaks of any footage or photos taken so far. You have a contract. We've been very good to you. I advise you to play ball with us, Roger."

"B-b-b--buttttt," Roger stammered, in shock and disbeelief.

Charlie Bishop hung up. Roger sat there, stunned. Abe retrieved his phone.

"All right, got it, Reed?" asked Abe. "Here's what you're gonna do. The next take, we'll begin with you standing NAKED at the shallow end. You'll then continue the scene as usual and end up back on the lounge chair in the SAME position. Arms over your head. And this time, put one leg up on the chair."

"NAKED? This is TELEVISION!!!" Roger shrieked. The crew guffawed, openly. They were having a field day.

Abe laughed. "It is CABLE TELEVISION."

Roger felt drunk now, and utterly defeated. He just wanted this day to end.

Abe said, "I now suggest that you shuck those underwear off under your robe. They don't really conceal much anyway, not that you have a great deal to conceal." Abe adored this opportunity to openly insult Roger Reed and his oh-so-famous physique, which was now about to be famous in quite a different manner.

"Then," Abe ordered, "take off that robe and stand there at the shallow end for at least two minutes until you hear me call "Action', then you can do your little swim and finish the scene. I want you to walk to the chair much more slowly. If you don't walk slowly, we'll have to do it again and again. And when you get to the chair, you'd better give me what the studio and I want. On your back, arms over your head, one leg up on the chair, flat. And spread your legs, by the way."

Roger had to protest. "Abe, that will be explicit. It will be OBSCENE."

Abe laughed. "It will also be WHAT WE WANT."

Roger looked around for a sympathetic face. He found none. Roger felt like he was suddenly transported to a devil's cult movie. A bad one.

"Let's go, gang!" exclaimed Abe, rubbing his hands. He couldn't wait to see this asshole's ASSHOLE.

The crew sprang into action, enjoying themselves. Almost all of them were now sexually aroused.

Roger, overwhelmed and a little frightened, nevertheless removed the wet briefs from underneath the robe. He deposited them underneath a chair.

Then, facing the inevitable, he stood up.

"We're waiting, Reed," drawled Abe. "Oh, come on, we've already seen it all."

The crew laughed. "Yeah, we sure have," someone teased, raher loudly.

"NO LAUGHING!" Abe barked. Then Abe laughed. "Take off the damn robe, it's almost lunchtime."

Roger, silently vowing to call his lawyer as soon as he got back to his trailer, REMOVED THE ROBE.

Roger Reed, now completely naked, and humiliated beyond human comprehension, placed the robe on the nearest lounge chair. Bobby removed it quickly, saying, "We don't want this in the shot. Roger. You understand. Bobby now was able to see Roger's ultra-small cock in all its underwhelming glory. It was barely an acorn cock. And Bobby had never seen such small balls since he'd given his sister's infant a bath last Christmas.

Roger Reed stood naked at pool's edge. The crew stared in amazement. They took more and more pics. The little girl pointed and whispered to her dad, "Daddy, he's naked." The gaffer replied, "Yes, Sarah, he certainly is." Sarah giggled. "His pee-pee is so tiny, Daddy." Daddy giggled in response. Roger heard every word of that exchange.

For what seemed like an eternity, Roger stood there in the nude.

Then finally, "ACTION!"

Roger collapsed into the pool. He swam. The underwater camerman was in position. Roger swam as fast as he could, knowing just how much of him was being preserved on film for all eternity.

Roger made it to the ladder. He had to summon every ounce of will to climb out of the pool.

He made it to the deck, naked, his small cock bobbling along as he walked to the lounge chair in a daze, slowly as instructed. He did NOT want to do this again.

Roger made it to the chair, and fighting back tears, got into "position." He unwillingly spread his legs and put his right foot up on the chair. He exposed his anus, a slightly hairy one, but under this sun, unmistakable, along with Roger's inadequate penis, his little boy balls, his manly man's ass, and his pubes, uselessly trimmed to make Roger look more "substantial."

Marva wandered over to the naked Roger Reed so she could deliver her first line.

"Mr. Ryan, so good to see, er, ALL of you." Marva ad-libbed a giggle. She did not have to ad-lib her smirk.

As Roger Ryan, private investigator, aka The Bare Detective, Roger Reed replied, "I thought I'd take a dip."

Marva, as "Tamarind Owens," a rich socialite, ogled Roger "Ryan's"  naked body. "Obviously," she giggled. "Don't you own a swimsuit?"

Marva leered at Roger's gaping asshole. This has to be the worst day of his life, Marva mused. I LOVE IT.

Roger Reed was then, humiliatingly, again required to deliver this line: "This is all I could find. It's the latest thing." Roger knew his ASSHOLE WAS EXPOSED. He could tell Marva was looking at it, too. Roger squirmed, naked. This was destroying him, slowly.


Watching the naked, obviously embarrassed Roger Reed squirm under all this derisive scrutiny was delicious indeed, thought Jenny, as she took pics of the nude actor, his modest manhood in full view along with his trimmed black pubes, his tantalizing nipples, his taut abs, his alluring guns and armpits, and his deep, dark ASSHOLE. Jenny loved men's assholes, especially if they had sexy black hair like Roger's. And after all that swimming, Jenny surmised that Roger's asshole was fairly clean. She'd like to lick it or at least finger it someday, even though as a person, Roger was well, an asshole. Jenny giggled to herself.


Tamarind says, referring to Roger "Ryan's" nudity: "Well, it certainly shows off ALL your charms."

At this point, the crew had to put their hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter. Some of them peed themselves as a result.

Bobby and Buddy took pic after pic after pic. Both men were fully erect in their pants. In fact, Buddy ejaculated.

Roger, in agony, just lay there, completely naked, his miniscule penis betraying years of publicity touting him as a he-man. Roger did not want EVER to do this scene again. Two grinning cameramen were hovering near him, getting extreme close-ups Roger knew would be aired somewhere "overseas" or more likely, gay bars and internet porn sites.

Roger's heart sank when he knew he had to utter this:: "My charms are charming, I know." His voice cracked when he said it. (They'd have to re-dub, CB said later. Roger sounds like a woman. A male secretary, watching the footage, had then cracked: He looks like one too, where's his dick? CB gave the secretary a small raise. CB liked his staff to possess wit, especially at the expense of overpaid actors. CB leaked the secretary's remark, and it made the appropriate rounds. Yes, it got back to Roger, who wept all night after he heard it.)

"My charms are charming, I know." It became immortal. It went on T-shirts and coffee mugs. Also, there would be a T-shirt with pool shots and "Where's his dick?" issued. Roger's Night Dick movie poster was featured on the back of the shirt.

("My charms are charming, I know." This line is when Buddy ejaculated in his pants, and Marva felt her panties get wet, and one male crew member realized he was totally gay.)

Tamarind then replies, ad-libbing, with a leer, "Nice birthday suit, Mr. Ryan. Your outfit certainly gives new meaning to the term 'private investigator'. Or should I say 'PRIVATES'?"

Marva just HAD to ad-lib again. "Your charms are certainly wide open today."

Roger decided to murder Marva later. He closed his legs and took his foot off the chair. Enough was enough. He moved his arms and raised himself off the chair, supporting himself with his elbows. This was a sexy sight, it showed off Roger's muscles and abs, and many observers swooned. Roger was still naked. And he now had a somewhat sad, boyish llook on his chiseled movie star face. Bobby whispered to Buddy, "Look at his nipples."

Roger's nipples were indeed visible underneath his chest hair. The sun was very bright. The nipples were dark brown and a bit perky. Roger's penis remained an also-ran, along with his scrotum.

"CUT!!!!!!!!!!" Abe shouted. And the entire crew burst into laughter again. The little girl Sarah laughed merrily and asked if she could go over and "touch the naked man." Daddy wagged his finger and said no, but when they got home, she would be allowed to look at the pictures and Daddy would explain it all to her..

"ROBE!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Roger yelled at the top of his lungs.

Someone threw the utterly humiliated, naked 50 year old actor a pair of wet underwear. He'd earned it. After all, he had certainly showed more than enough skin all day long.

It didn't take a detective, bare or otherwise, to see that.

Although, it was agreed by the crew over drinks, you had to peer if you wanted to see serious dick.

But happily, there always the internet and the zoom option.

Once this episode was aired, and leaked footage surfaced, "NIGHT DICK" re-charted and sold millions of copies.

Roger quit the series. He couldn't take the snide comments. The role was recast. Roger did not care.

He found work in independent films but refused anything calling for nudity of any nature.

Eventually, he got another series, playing a friendly serial killer in Massachusetts. He won an Emmy.

But photos and footage of his masculine charms dogged him daily. He hated it. He could not go near a hotel swimming pool, because when he did, people laughed at him. Then, they'd ask for his autograph. Show biz.

Roger Reed had showed more skin. And he was forever humiliated because of it. His drunk strip tease scene became a meme and was later incorporated in a big-budget studio animated film featuring gay koala bears. Of course, the movie was entitled "DICK THE BEAR.".




Submitted: July 24, 2022

© Copyright 2023 davey. All rights reserved.

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