Recognition (Patreon)

There's a lot that goes into making a movie, you know, but most people only ever take it at face value. They focus on the big stars, fawning over whichever Hollywood hunk or babe is gracing their screen at any moment. There's never any thought for the thousands of people behind the scenes who make sure the production runs smoothly and the film makes it to cinema on time. 

By this point those of us who work in the backstage departments are used to being overlooked by audiences but it becomes all too frustrating when we're forced to work with actors who hardly respect us. If it wasn't for our hard work they wouldn't be able to reach the success that they had but some individuals didn't want to accept that at all. I'm happy to say that a lot of the folks in Hollywood are actually down to earth but there's a few who live contained within their own egos and have looked down on me as if I was dirt just because I was a lowly set dresser.

By far the most uncomfortable situation I've ever found myself in was an encounter with Joe Manganiello. The Hollywood star was everything I was not - tall, buff and beautiful. He hardly even saw me as he ran through his lines on set and as a result, ended up knocking me over into a pile of rubble that we were setting up for a battle scene. The landing was rough and my back immediately flared up with pain but I could hardly focus on it because Joe had launched into a tirade about me interrupting his 'flow'.

When things got heated - mostly on Joe's end, I must stress - the director had to intervene and calm his lead star down. I was dismissed after that and it was recommended that I stay out of the actor's way, not that I was considering anything else. The less I had to deal with him, the better.

Unfortunately things didn't miraculously improve after that. I was continue lumped with the most stressful jobs available and I just knew that it was as a result of my 'incident' with Joe. Every now and then I caught him grinning smugly at me from the other side of the set but I knew better than to engage. I wanted to keep my job so I had to keep my head down and get on with it, even if I was leaving at the end of the day feeling ready to pull my own hair out. I'd even managed to lose weight because I was too stressed to eat, which only made me appear even weaker when compared to the muscular hunk who was tormenting me from afar.

While a number of my coworkers wanted nothing to do with me as they feared attracting Joe's wrath, one person who did seem to take notice of my plight was the director of the project. He was far nicer than he had any right to be and didn't seem amused by the actions of his lead star, apologizing to me on a number of occasions for how I was being treated but telling me there was nothing he could do without jeopardizing the production of the film.

"I've got a plan though, don't you worry," he whispered at the end of one quick conversation, finishing off with a wink. I was left confused and a little concerned about what his plan could possibly entail but I wouldn't get my answers until the morning of the movie's premiere, some eight months later, when the director showed up at my apartment door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, still dressed in only some boxers and a well-worn tan top. I had no plans of attending the premiere or even doing anything with my day other than sitting around playing video games, my favorite pastime when I wasn't working. Apparently my former employer had other plans for me though, as he smiled and held up a strange purple bottle. It almost looked like a perfume bottle, only it was clearly empty.

"I told you I had a plan," he replied, smirking as he unscrewed the cap off the bottle. For a moment I merely stared at it in confusion - before my body was suddenly dragged forward by some unseen force! Within seconds I had lost my physical shape and confined in the bottle, sealed there temporarily as the director returned the cap onto the bottle.

Holy fuck, this can't be happening! I tried to reason with myself, suggesting that I had just fallen back asleep on the sofa that morning and was having a particularly vivid dream but it all felt too strange for even my messed up brain to come up with. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice, one that wasn't overly welcome. I was back in the presence of Joe Manganiello and I sure as hell wasn't happy about it but what could I do when I was trapped inside a bottle? Tell me I'm not a fucking genie, I thought bitterly, mortified by the thought of granting wishes for such a douche.

"What's this?" Joe asked, accepting your inanimate form in his hands as you were passed over by that bastard traitor director. What the hell kind of plan was this? Certainly not one that was benefiting you in any way shape or form, that was for damn sure.

"A gift for all your hard work. Go on, put it on," the director encouraged, a sickly sweet smile adorning his face. And to think you had once considered him cute!

As Joe raised you close to his neck and pressed down on the bottle's head, you realized with some relief that you hadn't become a genie. Instead, you found part of yourself forced out of the bottle and making contact with the Hollywood hunk. You had been transformed into cologne and that was perhaps even worse!

Over the next minute you found yourself being sprayed across the man's muscular body and worked into his skin by his strong hands. You were massaged into his pecs and abs, as well as those broad shoulders. He even closed his eyes to spray a dose of you onto his face, allowing you to reach every part of his body. Despite loathing the man, you had to admit that it actually felt somewhat good to be all over him like this.

With every passing second though, it became clear to both Joe and I that there was something different going on. I wasn't just being worn by Joe, I was inside his body and with just a bit of focus I discovered that I could make it move. I experimentally popped his pecs and laughed in delight as I realized that controlling his body was becoming easier with every attempt. "Holy shit," I gasped, "This can't be real."

"Oh it is," the director confirmed, reaching out to slap - and then grope - my right pec. "I told you I had a plan, didn't I? Joe's treatment of you on set was fouls o in return I thought you should get the opportunity for a little revenge. You'll be walking the red carpet as him tonight and taking off on vacation in his place next week. After that... well, it's up to you." The director paused for a moment and smiled. "I think you'd certainly be a lot easier to work with than him, if my opinion's of any value to you."

"Where's Joe?" I couldn't help but ask, wondering what had become of the actor who had deliberately made my life so tough all those months ago.

"In there with you still, but he's firmly locked into the passenger seat. He'll see and feel everything you choose to do but won't be able to take control back unless I let him." As if to prove his point, the director moved down and cupped the actor's bulge, provoking a moan of delight rather than the angry tirade that would have come from Joe himself. "Now suit up, Manganiello, we've got a premiere to go to!