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[mothbanquet]

"'Cut!' cried out a strained voice.Ganorn rose to his feet, gracelessly levering himself off the young quarian beneath him, and stared angrily at his director. 

For his part, the human returned his glare with little more than a cocked eyebrow.'Garn, when I said "feel free to change a word or two", I didn't mean go off on a literary bender about how nice the gardens of Palaven are this time of year. I just meant try and act naturally for a bloody change. Or as naturally as you can get without cutting open your head and installing a new brain, preferably belonging to someone who actually can act.'

'Act?' Ganorn bit back. 'Act? You think this pathetic collection of double entendres qualifies as a script worthy of my talents? I've seen better examples of literature scrawled across bathroom walls on Omega!'

'All right then,' Freeman sighed, raising his eyebrows as if in deep contemplation. 'Let me say this another way. Either you finally pull off a take we can actually use in the bloody movie or I'll have you thrown off set and brutally hacked to death with a large knife.'

The turian raised his hands defensively. 'For the last time, if you expect me to utter another bawdy remark about the size of my 'main gun' then I swear I will march right out the door. My agent explained all this to you last week, Freeman, and I won't waste my time with this degrading filth any further if you insist on perpetuating these revolting stereotypes. I mean, for one…' Ganorn strode to one of the prop tapestries lining the set, '…this scene here. Every turian knows that General Antonidus commanded the Eighth Legion, not the Fifth! If you must use such timeless icons of our history then-'

'Look, you bird-necked cretin!' Freeman snapped as he ran a hand through his curly black hair, 'Nobody cares about which group of malnourished malcontents your inbred distant uncles cajoled into joining that collection of reformed war criminals you call the Hierarchy. Just because Mister Antonidus killed enough whining secessionists to earn himself a spot with his face safely buried in the Primarch's groin, doesn't change the fact that all you need to do is keep your mouth shut and bang the supple young quarian in front of you.'

Though Freeman couldn't be certain, Ganorn seemed to have grown pale with anger and the turian took several deep breaths, his nostril slits flaring widely. 'How dare you!' he hissed. 'This is totally unacceptable! I am Ganorn Firaxis! I have won awards on Palaven and Thessia for my portrayal of Hanzar Kuul! I am of the distinguished Cipritine Artists Guild and I do not deserve this!'

Pulling on his clothes, the actor stormed off set, bringing with him a trail of white linen as the sheets snagged in his trousers."



A Fornax Production has been released on both FFN and DA at long last!  A sharp, bawdy comedy, AFP is a short 3-part OC comedy set within the Mass Effect universe.  Acerbic erotic movie director Jon Freeman is in a bit of a pickle. He is tasked with creating Fleet and Forntilla, the most ambitious and expensive porn flick in Fornax's history. Can he and his long-suffering elcor producer Xantar deliver the goods or will they end up with their own private parts in orbit around Illium?

Find out for yourself and be sure to subscribe/watch!

Modifié par mothbanquet, 10 décembre 2012 - 02:24 .

[mothbanquet]

Epic news!  Chapter 2 of A Fornax Production is up on dA and FFN!

Here's a taste:


‘You know of its reputation,’ Fisty replied, unaffected by her resolve.  ‘You know it is not one whose patience should be tested, nor one whose will can be ignored.’

Indeed Orea knew of the hanar’s appetites.  Every figure of law enforcement in the galaxy held a simultaneous disgust and grudging respect for the infamous captain, his cleverness and remarkable tactical prowess tainted by his desire for all things alien and female.  It was well known that when a colony had been stripped of all its women, Captain Fisty was the one responsible.  The evil of this particular jelly brought up a welling of anger deep within Orea and she turned her icy gaze up to him with barely restrained malevolence.

‘I would rather die,’ she hissed.  The answer was the wrong one, and Orea immediately regretted it as Fisty raised shimmering tentacle to caress her face sensually.

‘That would serve no one, least of all this one.’

The tentacle moved down and slithered beneath Orea’s combat suit.  The asari grimaced, helpless against the writhing, foreign presence on her skin and to her despair, she felt her cheeks flush.  Fisty’s movements became firmer and Orea tried to stifle a gasp of pleasure as the tentacle probed and rubbed against her body, a worming line under the pliable red material of her suit.  As much as it repulsed her, her body betrayed the knowledge Fisty seemed to possess.  Every motion was calculated to excite.  He was gentle in one moment, then harsh in the next and always in just the right spots.  To Orea’s horror, she found herself aching for him to continue.

Orea shuddered as her suit fell from her shoulders and the frigid air hit her exposed flesh like a wave.

‘You bastard,’ she said, shivering with both cold and pleasure.  Though it was impossible to truly tell, she could have sworn Fisty was smiling as he raised another tentacle to her mouth.

‘Prepare to be boarded.  Justicar.’

Orea tried to resist but the feel of Fisty’s slick appendages on her body had awakened desires she had long since buried after taking her oaths.  She felt them now, like hands on her back, pushing her to embrace her wants and accept the pleasure the pirate king could bring.  Slowly, reluctantly, Orea opened her mouth.

Suddenly, Dana stopped.  Something was off.  Her eyes darted about the set and her professional instincts screamed at her for doing so but it was certainly there; something was definitely amiss.  Closing her lips, she leaned forward towards Pallo’s outstretched limb and took a deep sniff.  That was it.

Cringing, she pulled back.  ‘Ew, Pallo!  Wrong tentacle!’

The hanar immediately shrunk back, horrified and his voice shook.  ‘This one is sorry!  It was certain it had the correct one!  It cannot begin to apologise enough!’

‘Cut!’ Freeman groaned.  At the edge of the set, perched on a small and desperately uncomfortable director’s chair, he ran a hand over his face to massage the loose, pasty flesh.  

‘And here I thought we were doing so well.’

[mothbanquet]

Indeed, this is rated M for language and heavy innuendo, though I'm happy to say it stops way short of being smut!

[mothbanquet]

 And last, but certainly not least, the final chapter of this little tale is up on both FFN and DA.  don't forget to visit my DA page, where you can vote on your favourite character!