Cultural movie

A young actor in a historical documentary finds himself being messed with in a public and humiliating way…

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Cultural movie

This story is inspired by the documentary “Balkan Erotic Epic” by Marina Abramovic. These scenes were never in the documentary, although it was certainly extremely raunchy.


“Okay, finally, that’s a wrap.”

Anatol looked at the slate lying on the director’s chair – scene, 476, take 16, day 42. Kamilia was a demanding director. He was just glad that he’d not been in the previous scene. 16 takes! The men in the scene looked exhausted.

“Alright gentlemen, you’re done for the day.”

Thirteen men dressed in 14th century Balkan clothes clambered onto their feet, withdrawing their erect penises from holes drilled in the soft mud.

Anatol had watched the scene with bemusement. They were making a documentary about medieval Balkan fertility rituals. In the previous scene, the men had had to copulate with the earth in order to seed it for the coming season’s crops. Except Kamilia was extremely exacting about what she expected. When the men did not perform with great gusto and in perfect time, she’d make them start again and again. Many of them had ejaculated three, even four or five times. As he watched the men put their dirt-covered penises back into their baggy pantaloons, Anatol wondered where Kamilia had managed to find 13 men willing and able to get boners on demand, to say nothing of their ability to maintain them for more than an hour under such circumstances. Anatol couldn’t imagine anything less sexy. The men looked tired, and unhappy as they walked gratefully from the field that served as a set. Anatol just knew that he’d want to die from embarrassment if he was seen like that. Yet even as the men had dressed, Anatol noted that each of them still had hard erections.


Kamilia turned and looked in Anatol’s direction.

“Alright boys, let’s get you straight out there. No sense in hanging around.”

She was as demanding on herself as she was on the actors.

Anatol walked onto the set accompanied by 11 other teenagers. At 15 he was the youngest. The others were aged between 16 and 19. They were all dressed in ceremonial clothes from the same era as the men. Puffy dark pantaloons, shoes with pom poms on, and colourful ruffled shirts with floppy collars. They’d have looked overdressed for a carnival. At least he wasn’t the only one who looked ridiculous Anatol thought.

Kamilia explained their motivation before the scene.

“Okay, in this one, the boys of the village are showing the fertility gods that they are eager to become men. That they are practicing every chance they get. They are showing that they will fuck anything they can get their dicks into in the hopes that the gods will seed their crops.”


The first scene was a simple one. They had to do a stupid dance. Lots of groin thrusting and fully-clothed symbolic wanking. There was even a bit where they simulated fucking each other in the ass. Anatol was not happy that he was one of the six boys who had to kneel on his hands and knees smiling fake grins at the camera whilst the other six pretended to fuck them, but the whole festival the movie depicted was so ludicrous that it was just one dumb scene among an ocean of absurdity.

Kamilia forced them to repeat the scene five times before she was happy.

“Bigger fucking motions!” she screamed. “It’s meant to be a performance that the gods can see.”

So they did the scene again and again, until the boys doing the fucking were moving their hips in huge thrusts that would have required two foot long penises to accomplish if the actions were real.

Then the director was unhappy with the wanking of Anatol and a couple of the other boys.

“Bigger, bigger, move your hands more. You’re not wanking a fucking mouse!” she screamed.

She was down to earth to the point of being crude. Anatol had been constantly surprised by just how vulgar Kamilia was. Making a documentary like this, he’d expected that she would either have an academic dispassion, or more likely, would be prosaic about all the things the actors had had to do. But she was more than prosaic. She swore and directed with all the vulgar bluntness of a docker.


Anatol moved both hands in huge swings. It was ridiculous, and he felt like he was miming jacking an elephant off.

Finally, the scene was done and Anatol sighed with relief.


“Okay, two minutes then we’ll move onto 479.”


The boys shuffled off-camera to take a drink whilst Kamilia and the crew were served refreshments by craft services. Two minutes later she was on their case again.

The boys shuffled back onto the field. This time each of them was holding wooden dildos, each three feet long. Four teenaged girls joined them, sitting demurely at the back of the shot.

“Right, so now the village boys are demonstrating the battle for sexual dominance over the other boys for the rights to fuck the prettiest girls.”


As soon as the cameras started rolling, the boys started fighting in slow motion, using the dildos as swords. The actual fighting was not scripted, but the boys had instructions not to go too rough. The idea was to represent the sexual battle, not to actually kill each other.

The director allowed the boys to fight on for 15 minutes whilst four camera crews walked around shooting from multiple positions before Kamilia stopped the action.

“Okay good. Now we just need to show some winners and losers. Casmir, Karel, Dimitri, Jaromir, Anatol, and Sashmir, you will be the losers. We’ll continue fighting but when I say “Now” each of you will gradually allow your partner to beat you to the ground. Then you will lay as though unconscious. Here like this. Milen.”

She addressed the assistant director and they acted the scene out so that the boys knew what was expected.

“Everyone know what they’re supposed to be doing?”

The boys nodded.

“Good, annnd, action!”

The boys resumed fighting with the girls looking on, and upon Kamilia’s command Anatol and the other losers allowed themselves to be slowly beaten to the ground.

“Not bad boys, not bad. But one more time and even slower when you start to lose. Allow the winners to beat you down slower, and remember EXAGGERATE EVERYTHING!”

They took the scene twice more before Kamilia was happy.

“Okay, costume change and we can get on with 480.”

Anatol was bewildered. Scene 480? 479 was the last surely?

He approached Kamilia.

“Kamilia ma’am, am I in this scene?”

She frowned.

“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“It’s just that my last page ends with scene 479.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Milen!”

The assistant scurried over.

“Anatol hasn’t got the update. He doesn’t know about scenes 480 and 481!”

“Oh I’m really sorry about that Kamilia. I have no idea how he got overlooked.”

“It’s just as well no-one has any lines, but for fuck’s sake man, screw ups cost money!”

“Yes Kamilia.”

It was clear that Milen was as intimidated by the director as the rest of them were.

“Do you at least have a costume for him?”

Milen called over the costume fitter.

“Danica we have costume for Anatol don’t we?”

She smiled.

“Yes of course Milen. I checked them all during the men’s shoot.”

“Thank you Danica.”

His relief was palpable.

“Okay good. No harm done then. Anatol, go collect your costume and we can get on with it. Just follow along with the others and I’ll tell you what to do.”


Anatol smiled, eager to be professional, and followed Danica as she lead him to the costume wagon. She rummaged in the back of the oversized galvanised steel trailer and pulled out a costume that had been made for him, hanging on a wooden hanger. It comprised a black oblong fez with a floral band around it, a white blouse, a black sleeveless suede jacket, loose black pantaloons and black boots. Anatol immediately noticed that there was no crotch in the pantaloons, and the hole in the crotch was hemmed in red silk, drawing attention to it.

He frowned.

“What shall I wear under these?”

“You don’t wear anything.”

Anatol stopped dead in his tracks. His heart plummeted and his stomach knotted. He looked around to see the other boys dressing in case Danica was pulling his leg. She wasn’t. On the edge of the field, the other 11 boys were all in various states of nudity and the couple that were already dressed clearly had their genitals dangling out of the open fronted costume.

“I can’t wear that!” he protested.

“You have to. It’s what the boys wore for the festival.”

He shook his head.

“No, no, no. There’s no way I’m putting that on.”

Kamilia walked over.

“Everything okay Danica?”

“I don’t know. Anatol says he’s not wearing the costume.”

Kamilia looked at the teenager.

“What’s the problem?”

“I’m sorry but I’m not letting anyone see me naked.”

She frowned.

“It was in your contract.”

“What was?”

“Nudity. Your agent did read the contract didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. The school handles all that sort of thing.”

“Jesus Christ, what’s the point of attending residential acting school if they don’t even bother to read the fucking contracts before signing you up?”

Anatol remained silent.

“Look, it’s the last two scenes. Couple of hours of mild discomfort tops, then we’ll all be done and you can go home.”

“But I don’t want anyone seeing me naked.”

Kamilia had had enough.

“Fucking hell kid, how about a bit of goddamned professionalism here? We’ve spent 6 weeks filming, dozens of scenes with you in. We can’t just refilm them all ‘cause you’re a little bit shy!”

Anatol was taken aback. They were all leery of Kamilia’s filthy temper, but thus far he’d managed to avoid having it directed solely at him. He blushed brightly, humiliated to be her target.

“If you don’t want to lose your entire fee for six weeks, AND get hit with a penalty fine running into hundreds of thousands, and find yourself getting struck off the actor’s guild forever, you’ll do what you’re told RIGHT NOW!”

Anatol wanted to be a successful actor with all his soul.

“But, but…” he was terrified of her.

“What the fuck is it kid?”

He leaned close and said in a quiet voice, “I haven’t got a very big, you know, willy.” He lowered his voice still further. “It’s kind of small actually.”

Kamilia grinned.

“Kid, no guy is ever as big as he wished he was and nobody is paying attention to the size of your fucking dick. Now get changed.”

Anatol’s cheeks were burning so hot with humiliation he felt sure she would be able to feel the heat without seeing his face.

“Yes ma’am,” he said timidly.

Anatol took the costume to the edge of the field and changed into it, leaving the pants until last. He turned his back to the other boys and stepped out of his briefs, then pulled the pantaloons up and did the wide sash belt up. He looked down at himself. He looked both ridiculous and pathetic at the same time. There was nothing wrong with his nuts; a fist sized teardrop clinging to the root his cock, but he dearly wished his penis was longer. It measured precisely three inches and that included its long, puckered foreskin.

He looked around. None of the other boys appeared shy. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself by acting weird. His only option was to brazen it out. He walked over to the main group, doing his best impersonation of “confidently casual”. How the fuck did he walk normally? Where did his hands go? Did he usually let them dangle or hold them up? If they dangled, did he swing them or let them hang loose? He looked at the other boys and tried to copy their posture, but he was far too anxious for chit chat.

“You okay Anatol?” Karel asked.

At just over 16 years old, Karel was the boy nearest in age to him, and they’d become friends over the past six weeks. Anatol swallowed.

“Yeah, I just hate these trousers.”

“Oh yeah, they look so dumb huh?”

Karel seemed to be completely unconcerned about the fact his dick and balls were dangling out where everyone could see them.

“It’s not that,” Anatol said, “I just wish my dick wasn’t hanging out the front.”

Karel looked down at himself.

“Oh yeah, that too. Just try not to think about it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Anatol thought glancing at Karel’s thick five-inch sausage and large heavy nuts, “You’ve got a man-sized dick!”

“Yeah I guess,” he said, but he couldn’t hide the sick expression from his face.



“Okay, line up boys,” Kamilia said loudly. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The boys shuffled into a line facing her. Anatol stood on the far end.

“Right, line up in this order: Miroslav, Dimitri, Casmir, Vadim, Jaromir, Anatol.”

Each time she called out a name, she’d point where she wanted the boy to stand.

“Rudolf, Sashmir, Karel, Casmir, Radoslaw, Radek and Miro.”

The boys moved to their assigned places. Anatol noticed that a whole bunch more girls had arrived to join the first four. He estimated more than twenty in total now. Kamilia turned.

“Okay girls, just sit there watching. Try to look interested.”

“Right, I hope you boys have strong legs. You’re just going to stand absolutely still whilst we film you  from every possible angle. You can put your hands on your hips, behind your backs, cross your arms, whatever feels comfortable, but once you pick a pose stick with it. Just don’t cover your groin. Remember, in this scene, the boys of the village are showing off to the girls in the hopes of getting a fuck.”

Anatol looked down at the groins of the boys to either side of him. Jaromir and Rudolf were 18 and 19 respectively and their soft dicks were huge. Jaromir’s was 8 inches soft, and Rudolf had a thick six and a half. Anatol looked down at himself. He looked pathetic compared to them. How the fuck was he supposed to look confident amidst such company? He tried crossing his arms but it felt unjustifiably brash, so he settled for arms behind his back.

“Could you try not to look so miserable Anatol, for Christ’s fucking sake.”

“It’s just, well, do I have to stand right in the middle between these two?”

“What, feeling intimidated by their big cocks Anatol?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he admitted in a timid voice, blushing furiously.

The other boys looked down at his groin, and there was ripple of laughter amongst boys and girls alike. Now he’d made things even worse. He’d drawn attention to his small dick. Anatol lifted his head and puffed his chest out but for the life of him, he just couldn’t wipe the scared look from his face.

“That’s more like it peewee,” Kamilia taunted. “Bit of fucking professionalism at last. Now, last scenes of the movie then we can finally get out of this fucking field and go home!”

Anatol hated her with a burning passion at that moment. He hated bullies, and she was the worst kind. All he wanted, more than anything, was an acting career, a chance to escape the poverty of his upbringing. When he’d won a residential scholarship at the Shopov Academy, it was all he had dreamed for. Then getting this job – 6 weeks of well-paid work, when most of his fellow students had never done anything of note other than the odd advertising gig. He was desperate to succeed at this job. He was being pushed way, way beyond his personal comfort boundaries. But he couldn’t fail, he just couldn’t. The idea of slinking back to the school in disgrace was simply too much to contemplate.


“Right boys, still now, we’re going to start filming.”

Anatol did his best to look confident as four camera crews moved around filming them from every conceivable angle, whilst two 8K rigs stood in front getting long shots.

The filming seemed to go on forever. Anatol couldn’t understand why it took so long to get half a dozen shots of them standing around. The cameras seemed to want to get close enough to film the fine hairs on his cheek, and the almost non-exist hairs on his balls! And what were they going to do with a full screen 4K close up of his dick? Use it in their publicity shots?!

If he’d known that he would have been required to stand around for such intimate nude shots, he certainly would never have accepted the job. He knew that tasteful nudes were a possibility. Eastern cinema was not as coy as western, and he’d reconciled himself to the fact that one day, he might have to flash his dick. But he hoped it would be later when he was older with more of a dick to flash.


Finally, after 15 minutes Kamilia seemed satisfied.

“Alright boys. Stay in your lines. I want you to go over there level with the bushes. When I wave, I want you to walk towards the girls at a comfortable pace with your arms swinging naturally.”

Anatol followed the others, and they lined up again 100 yards away. When Kamilia waved, they all walked forwards as directed. When they arrived, she said, “For fuck’s sake, it’s not a race. Stick more or less together. Not a perfect line but I don’t want any of you rushing out in front. Do it again.”

They boys returned to their start position then walked forwards again. Anatol was grateful that it met with Kamilia’s approval the second time. All he wanted was to dress and get out of there.

“Okay boys same start position, but this time I want you to jog towards the girls. Then we’ll do it one last time and I want you to sprint, try to beat everyone around you.”

“How many more fucking times does want us to do this?” Anatol thought to himself becoming irritated now.

He walked to the end of the field with the others, then jogged back.

“Great, that’s got those cocks swinging.”

Anatol was surprised by how blatant she was. She made no attempt to hide the reasoning behind the shot. He imagined the boys next to him; how their serpentine cocks would wriggle and sway. He knew his wouldn’t do that. It was bouncing perkily.

They walked back one last time and sprinted. Anatol was quite a decent sprinter. He could probably have beaten the two young men to either side of him, but he held back just far enough for them to take the limelight.

“Excellent, excellent,” Kamilia said, uncharacteristically generous with her praise. “Last scene and we can fuck off out of here!”

Most of the guys around him laughed at her laddish language, but Anatol found her coarseness unpleasant, like she was trying to ingratiate herself by becoming one of the boys.

“Okay form a line again. If you need stretch do it now quickly because you’re going to be holding the next poses a long time.”

There was a quick burst of activity as every single boy including Anatol quickly jumped, twisted, jiggled and loosened up in readiness for the period of immobility to come.

“Okay, let’s go. I want you all hands-on-hips looking defiant and confident. Your body language is saying ‘Here’s my dick ladies, come and get it. Look directly at the girls. Right in their eyes.”

Anatol put his hands on his hips and looked at the girls. He found the one who looked the youngest and least judgemental and looked at her.

“Tongues out. Whatever you do, DO NOT FUCKING MOVE UNTIL I TELL YOU TO!” Kamilia said.

Anatol had no idea why he needed to stick his tongue out, but he did what he was told, afraid to attract attention again.

Half a dozen assistants came forwards with eyedroppers and dropped a few droplets of liquid on each boy’s tongue. Kamilia took care of Anatol herself. He was sure he could see a sparkle of mischief in her eye, or maybe it was contempt. She squirted an entire pipette of liquid straight down his throat, then quickly retreated to her position behind the cameras followed by her assistants.

“And cameras roll,” she commanded. “boys – tongues in, swallow, look at the girls with lust. Totally still now. Hold those positions.”

Anatol wondered what on earth she was playing at but he stood still as a statue. Then to his horror, he felt it; his cock rapidly raising its head. In five seconds it stood up at an angle of 75 degrees, swollen with blood. He knew now what was in the liquid.

“Great hold that pose boys. Nice wood. Very nice. Gonna make some girls happy with those tonight huh?”


It was deliberate!? All of the boys presumably now had boners? Anatol knew that the men had had to do a scene where they fucked the earth earlier, but he never dreamed that Kamilia would make kids stand around with boners in public too! Then he realised, most of them were not kids. It had been legal to do porn at the age of 14 in his country until recently, and even now, tasteful nudity and acting had no lower age limit.

The camera crews were back, filming from every imaginable angle. Anatol stared at the girls.

“Girls I want you looking at the boys. Look at their dicks. Chat to each other about them. Who’s nicest, which you think is the best looking. Keep it low key. Marta, Jasika, you can point. Nijole, laugh and look at one of the boys and make a little worm gesture.”

Kamilia held up her hand with finger and thumb extended, the tips an inch apart to indicate a boy with a small cock. Anatol had the sinking feeling that she would be looking at him when she did it. As it happened, she did look his way for a few seconds, but then stared conspicuously into space as she made the gesture. Anatol was grateful for her kindness.


“Boys you’re gonna start to cum soon. Try not to fucking fall over when you do!” Kamilia shouted. Then she laughed a deep belly laugh that sent a ripple of laughter through the watching girls.

Cum? Oh no surely not. That wasn’t fair. But Anatol couldn’t deny that he was feeling extremely aroused. His balls were trying to crawl back into his stomach and there was an excited churning sensation in each of them! He was desperately anxious but simultaneously incredibly horny. It was a strange combination. He’d never been so aware of the blood flowing through his dick, but now it felt like he could feel every pulse of blood as it rushed through his balls and the base of his dick.


Anatol’s penis felt as though it was trying to burst out of its skin! He’d never been so hard. He glanced down at himself. His foreskin was fully retracted and peeled halfway down his shaft. His glans was bloated, shiny, straining as though trying to break away from the raw-looking shaft it topped. His dick was still not large, but it was the most impressive he’d ever seen it.

Then he glanced at Jaromir and Rudolph to either side of him. Jaromir had a 10-inch rod that stuck out at right angles. It was dark and drool dribbled from its plum-coloured head. To his other side, Rudolph had 9 inches standing up at 45 degrees and it looked thick as a cucumber. What small pride Anatol was starting to feel at his new potency drained away as quickly as it had arrived. He was a child amongst men!

He raised his eyes and looked at the girls.  He noticed a few of them smirking at him, and now he knew exactly why.

From his peripheral vision on Rudolph’s side, a huge gout of spunk suddenly rose into view, followed by three more. The young man grunted and staggered and took a couple of steps forwards as his legs gave way under the force of his orgasm.

A few moments later, Jaromir groaned. Anatol glanced towards the man’s cock and it looked as though he was literally pissing spunk. It didn’t last long, but in that seven or eight seconds, Anatol was sure that Jaromir had squirted more spunk than HE made in a month! Anatol heard it hit the grass with a soft flumping sound.

Then they were all doing it. As though triggered by the sound of Jaromir’s orgasm. Anatol heard several more boys grunting, and he was peripherally aware of at least four staggering forwards as they came.

Then he felt the rushing between his own legs, and suddenly a small sputtering fountain rose up past his eyes as he came harder than he would have believed possible, and certainly harder than he’d ever cum in his life. He didn’t stagger or grunt, but he felt his legs turn to jelly and he dropped a couple of inches in height, struggling to keep his knees from completely buckling under him. Anatol gasped heavily and tensed his stomach, flexing teen abs that he was increasingly proud of.

He glanced at the girl who had made the worm gesture, as though somehow seeking her approval. Unconsciously sending the message “I may be small but look how hard I can cum!” She smiled at him not unkindly. He blushed and glanced away again quickly.



For the next hour, the boys stood, excruciatingly horny, whilst the camera crews continued filmed them from a thousand different positions. Anatol was certain at one stage that a crew was even trying to film up his asshole! He came six more times over that period, each as powerful as the first. His balls throbbing from the repeated exertion until the root of his cock ached from the continuous arousal.



Eventually Kamilia was ready to move on. She sent them across the field again and had them swagger back towards the girls. Anatol was only too well aware that to each side, Jaromir and Rudolph’s immense cocks swung from side to side like booms on two cranes whilst his own hard member pointedly rigidly upwards, barely moving at all as he walked.


Even when Kamilia sent them back for the final time, and had them run across the field, it barely moved, bouncing side to side in tight trembling movements.

And then, finally it was over, and Anatol had never been so relieved.


“All right boys, that’s it. That’s a wrap. You can get dressed and get the fuck out of here.”

She was smiling, happier than Anatol had ever seen her.

She joked, “Try to lose those fucking flagpoles by tonight. I’ll see you all at the end of shoot party at 8.”

Anatol quickly changed out of the ridiculous historical ritual costume and pulled his trousers up over his straining cock. All around him, the other boys were dressing, their own erections no more diminished. Mindless of them, Anatol turned and walked towards the site exit. He had barely walked 50 yards when he came again hard, sliming the inside of his underpants. Kamilia watched the kid stagger and grinned. With the amount of drug she had given him, the cute little shit would be cumming like that for the next two days!



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