Filming the Ark
                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                             Remus Shepherd


   Harry Smith, producer, was tired of being the center of attention.  
Activity on the pier milled around him, with every stage hand and 
performer wanting his personal attention.  Thankfully the sailors left 
him alone -- their job was to load cargo.  And the security guards 
didn't mind pushing people away when he asked them to.  He had a job to 
do.
   Ray, Harry's second-in-command, actually did most of the work.  
"Okay, Harry, here's the papers on the livestock.  Now, you told me not 
to worry about the dogs..."
   Harry pointedly ignored three people trying to get his attention.  
"The dogs are no trouble as long as we don't stop anywhere -- then 
customs gets involved.  We're just going on a short tour, out to 
international waters, where we can do as we please, then home again.  
File those papers and help me check the manifest against the cargo."
   Ray opened his satchel, stuffed the papers inside, and pulled out a 
thick folder.  "Just about everyone we contracted is here, minus a few 
no-shows."  The small man had to run to keep up with Smith.  "And I've 
been getting calls all day from late applicants ..."  On cue, Ray's 
cellular phone rang, and he stopped to answer.
   A burly stablehand took the opportunity to get Harry's attention.  
"Mr. Smith, the goats have diarrhea.  I think it's something in their 
feed..."
   "Harry!"  A scantily clad woman grabbed him from another direction.  
"You've got my Llama penned up next to a bear cage!  What the hell are 
you thinking?"
   Harry knocked her hand away from his silk shirt.  "You've got a 
problem, Jucie?  Talk to Christian, he's the stable manager -- it's what 
I pay him for."
   "What if that thing gets out?  He's scaring the hell out of my llama 
now -- if he kills it, I'm left without an act!"
   "Jucie, that's bullshit.  You've done half the animals on board, and 
I've got film to prove it."  Harry spun to the stable hand.  "uh, Joe, 
isn't it?  Joe, whose bear is that?"
   Joe blinked.  "Yours, I think.  Mr. Smith, the goats..."
   Ray covered the mouthpiece. "Harry, got an interesting one here!  
This guy's got a female elephant, and says he can make it here by three 
o-clock!"
   Harry held up his hands.  "Waitaminute!  Jucie, tell Christian to 
move the bear -- the llama needs that pen.  Put him in someone's shower 
for chrissake!"  He turned to Ray and sighed.  "Ray, ask him what the 
hell he does with the elephant, anyway.  And we can't make special 
arrangements by three, if he needs any!  Brush him off if you can."
   "um, Mr. Smith..."
   Harry looked back at Joe.  "All the fucking goats are sick?  What the 
hell can give a goat diarrhea?"  He saw three more people moving in to 
confront him, and began backing off.  "Talk to Dr. Kent, see if they'll 
be fit to perform.  And see if anyone's been shanking them off-stage!"  
Harry turned and headed for the gangplank.  "Ray, let's get the hell out 
of here."
   "Harry, the elephant guy says he's got an inflatable kayak, and..."
   "Hang up on him, Ray."
   "Harry", someone called from outside, "you better come take care of 
this."  Out on the dock was a group of people standing, watching some 
event in the center of the crowd.  An occasional cheer went up.
   Harry changed direction and stormed over to the group, pushing people 
aside.  A red haired lady was underneath a minature horse, plunging a 
flared, pink cock into her open mouth.  He could swear she was unhinging 
her jaw.  The horse rolled it's eyes and stamped it's feet, teased and 
ready to buck.
   "Okay, break it UP!"  Harry shoved his way to the animal's side.  
Groans of protest emerged from the crowd.  "Look, this is legal in 
Jersey, but in public it's still obscene.  Get your asses arrested on 
your OWN time, and not on MY set!"
   The spectators started moved away.  Harry bent down and picked the 
woman up.  When she unhooked her mouth, thin cum spurted from the 
horse's cock, splashing over his pressed pants.
   "Aw, shit."  Harry shook his leg.  "Lady, you've just been fired.  
Get out of here."
   Redhead wiped her mouth.  "Tell me you didn't enjoy it."
   "I didn't enjoy it.  Damn, it's in my shoes!"
   The woman stepped towards him, grabbing him by the crotch, quickly 
and firmly.  She looked straight in his eyes, feeling him up.  Harry 
almost decked her.
   Puzzled, she stepped back.  "You are a cold bastard, aren't you?"
   Some security guards had arrived, and Harry turned to face them.  "If 
this horse is one of mine, get him aboard."  He looked at the woman.  "I 
don't care what you do with Red.  Just get her off my fucking dock."  
Some guards moved to obey orders, while others firmly pushed the 
remaining spectators away.  Harry looked around as the crowd left, 
making sure no one but his performers had witnessed the event.
   A tall young lad, wearing a leather jacket covered with 'wolf' 
buttons and a beat-up hat was watching from outside the fence.  His 
mustache twitched as he watched the events on the dock.  Harry went over 
to him.  "Look, pal, nothing to see here."
   "What's going on here?" asked the stranger.
   Harry sighed and looked at his watch.  "Hey, you look like a nice 
kid.  Go home and forget what you just saw, okay?  You don't want to get 
involved with these people."  He waved over a security guard to take 
care of the visitor, and ran up the gangplank.

   Once on the ship, Harry and Ray stopped to rest.  Ray took out a hip 
flask.  "Just like the good old days, huh, Harry?"
   "Never again.  Never anything this big.  I don't care if it nets me 
ten million.  Never again am I gonna do this crap."  He tried shaking 
his leg dry once more.
   "Hey, the audience is out there -- you said it yourself.  Just have 
to create more product."
   "Yeah, but I'm not sure the product works in big production.  Look at 
the mess we went through, just to make the filming legal.  We're on a 
fucking ark, for chrissake."  Harry saw Christian, the stable manager, 
round the corner.  "Great.  Ray, where's my cabin?"
   Ray gulped down his whiskey and frowned.  "uh, there's four head 
cabins -- pick one.  Haven't really assigned them yet..."
   "Which ones are free?  Which are you sleeping in?  Hi, Chris."
   Ray winked.  "I've got a bed tonight.  And someone to share it with.  
Want to come along? -- you can work the camera."  The little man 
grinned.
   Harry clenched his fists.  "Ray, you keep drinking, it'll kill you.  
Or I will."  He looked straight at Christian, who was standing there 
with a strange look.  "Yes, can I help you, or should I pay you for 
looking stupid?"
   The manager straightened.  "Fuck you, Harry.  I don't take shit from 
anyone who smells like a goddamn A.V."   He smiled.  "Insult contest -- 
score one for me.  What the hell happened, Harry?"
   "It's a fucking zoo out there, and you're supposed to be in charge.  
And that contest didn't count -- what the hell's an A.V. anyway?"
   Christian smiled again and moved to the gangplank.  "I'll take care 
of it, smearless leader.  And the score is still Christian: ten million, 
A.V. Smith: zip."  He walked out and down to the pier.
   Harry looked at him leave.  "Ray, why did I hire him in the first 
place?  And what the hell is an A.V.?"
   "Equine marital aid -- sort of Trigger's best friend."  Ray chuckled, 
grinning.  "He just called you a pussy, Harry.  You want to fire him 
now, or later?"
   Harry rubbed his eyes and started walking again.  "Later.  First I 
change my shoes."
   They made it all of the way to the main staircase when one of the 
casting directors found them.  Harry tried to ignore the man, but was 
stopped by a manuscript waving in his face.
   "Hey, Harry -- read this story.  I checked, and we have every animal 
we need to stage it!"
   "Yeah, yeah.  Who's the author?  Do we have the rights?"
   "No, we don't need rights.  This guy won't mind."
   Harry flipped through the pages, scanning the last one.
" '...in the flesh', huh?  Cheeky bastard."
   "Hey, this guy's hot, Harry!"
   "Sure, sure."  He tossed the papers back.  "Look, it's all just smut 
to me.  You don't have a copyright, I can't use it.  Don't need 
lawsuits."
   "But there's no lawyers where this guy comes from, just sheep!"
   Harry walked away.  "And people to fleece 'em, and people to screw 
'em.  Sounds like lawyer heaven to me."  

   Harry changed and showered, and was dressed before he realized the 
boat was moving.  A fairly pleasant rocking motion, he noted.  With 
pleasure he congratulated himself for having no problems on his first 
ocean voyage.
   By dinnertime he was in agony.  With hunger came nausea, and by the 
time he met Ray in the dining room he was positively green.  He swayed 
over to the table and sat down.  Ray looked at him, a mixed drink in his 
hand and a big grin on his face.
   "Not one word", Harry growled.  He looked for a waiter.  The dining 
room was crowded with performers, made up and dressed up, looking to 
boast about themselves or just get laid.
   Even Ray had on his best suit and most evil face.  "May I recommend 
the cheeseburger with avacado and bacon?  It comes with a nice, greasy 
sauce.  Strange shade of green, though."
   "Shut up, you little bastard."  No waiter was in sight, and so he 
sipped from his water glass.  Across the room entered a young blond 
girl, with a plain face and simple beach clothes.  She looked around 
timidly, obviously without a friend in the room, and too bashful to make 
any.
   Something about her face or her stance made Harry curious.  "Ray, who 
is that?"
   Ray looked up from his drink.  "Hmmn.  One of the performers, I 
think.  Stage name Princess.  Don't know her real name.  Dog fucker."
   Harry watched the girl shyly look for a table.  "She doesn't seem the 
type.  For any of this."
   "Ah, I'm sure she's as evil as the rest of us."  He cracked a smile.  
"Call her over, Harry, she might be good for you."
   Harry winced.  "And cracking your fucking skull might be good for 
you."  He waved the girl over.  She saw him and looked around her to see 
who he was waving at.  He pointed and mouthed, Yes, You!  Puzzled, she 
walked over and sat down.
   As she came closer, Harry saw that she was wearing no makeup at all.  
She stood next to him, curious and unsure.  "Princess, isn't it?  Sit 
down -- you look like you need a table mate."  Harry guestered towards a 
chair.
   Princess sat down.  "You're mister Smith, right?  The Producer?"
   Harry gave a little bow.  Ray grinned.  "Don't worry, darling, he 
doesn't use a casting couch.  Or stable, for that matter."
   Harry gave Ray a serious look.  "Ignore my sotted friend here.  I was 
just noticing -- you don't look like you're trolling for a warm body 
tonight.  Most everyone here is."
   Princess blushed and looked down.  "I'm not very interested, thank 
you."
   The producer was even more intrigued by her shyness.  Actors are 
rarely shy -- or as innocent as this girl.  "Look, how long have you 
been doing this?  Why are you here?"
   She looked straight at him.  "All my life.  Because I want to be.  
Any other questions?"
   "Well, if you're in trouble or anything, let me know, and I can help.  
Or if you really want to go through with it, look through the kennels, I 
can cast you opposite anything you want..."
   Princess stood up, insulted.  "I brought my own 'actor', thank you.  
He's staying in my cabin.  And I'm here because I wanted to be.  It's 
just not what I expected, that's all."  She then walked, without looking 
back, out of the dining room.
   Harry and Ray looked at each other.  Ray smirked.  "I think we just 
met the big 'Z', Harry."
   Harry nodded.  "Zoophile.  Had to be one aboard."  He sighed.  "I 
really prefer the dogfuckers.  Professionals, just want their money.  
And they don't care if you send the dog to the pound the next day -- 
just as long as they're paid."
   "Yeah, she's probably upset to be among all these beasties.  Tough 
luck."
   Harry looked out the doorway.  "Hope she's all right."  Ray looked at 
him slyly.  "Hope she can perform", Harry amended.
   "Uh, huh."  Ray took another drink.

   That night, Harry took Dramamine and went to bed early, intending to 
go over the scripts for filming tomorrow.  Being on the topmost deck, 
his cabin was quieter than most; but even so, sounds drifted up from the 
lower decks.  Sounds that he could not all identify.  Something like a 
human being screamed in orgasm every ten minutes, in one part of the 
ship or another.  He heard the barking of dogs and neighing of horses 
almost constantly.  A steady thumping came from the cabin below him, 
continuing for almost two hours before he decided to walk the ship and 
exhaust himself to sleep.
   He was in the portside stable when he found Ray, swaying back and 
forth.  The man seemed to be walking aimlessly, but smiled when he saw 
Harry.  "Hey, hoped I'd find you.  What you doing 'round here?"
   Harry pretended to examine the makeshift stable.  "Just checking 
things.  Ray, I thought you had a bed tonight.  Change her mind?"
   "He changed his mind, yes.  Got a better offer from someone with a 
pet.  I don't get into that stuff, you know."
   "Yeah, I know.  Well, to each his own."  He continued walking along 
the stalls.  "I just couldn't sleep with all of this racket -- it's 
ridiculous!  I'm surprised noone's jumped overboard to screw dolphins 
yet."
   "Heh, heh.  Actually, I heard some people talking about it."
   "I'll tell the captain to throw garbage instead of life preservers.  
Why aren't you out looking?"
   Ray waved his arms and staggered a bit.  "Maybe I was hoping you'd 
change your sexual preference?  Naah... you like being chaste."  He 
winked and grinned madly.
   Harry tightened his jaw.  "Ray, you're drunk.  Go sleep it off, and 
try again tomorrow.  Somewhere else."
   The pair stopped at a pig stall to look inside.  The pig was rocking 
back and forth, humping the mud provided, obviously frustrated and over-
excited.  Ray watched for a second.  "Geeze, Harry.  What did they do to 
this guy, to get him like this?"
   Harry looked away.  "Nothing.  We interview the animals, too, you 
know.  They aren't willing, they don't make the cut."
   Ray leaned against the stall.  "Makes you a bit envious, I bet."
   "What?"
   Ray smiled broadly.  "I know your secret, Harry.  You and I got 
smashed together that night, remember?  Right after that donkey lady 
tried to pin the tail on you.  You told me ..."
   "Watch it, Ray."  Harry clenched his fist.
   "...you haven't gotten it up for years.  I bet you don't even 
remember how it feels."
   Harry's fist said hello to Ray's smile, and the small man fell 
backwards.  After a quick check, Harry lifted the unconscious man and 
dumped him into the pig pen on his belly.  Mr. Pig joyfully climbed on 
top of Ray, humping merrily.
   "Take it easy, stud.  You've got a show to do in the morning."  Harry 
called back as he left.  "And be careful!  Polyester can leave a nasty 
rug burn!"

   Harry slept poorly, and got up late.  The cameraman and directors can 
handle it for a while, he thought.  When he finally made his way to the 
studio in the cargo hold, he had lost track of the time, and the script 
schedule.  When he entered, he blinked twice at the figures on the 
stage.  A large dog was screwing a small goat, mounted and thrusting in 
earnest, with the firm help of a few naked women.
   Harry rolled his eyes and sat in the chair marked 'Producer'.  Noting 
that Ray was not there, he turned to the cameraman.  "Bill, wake me when 
this is over.  You know the schedule -- just follow it."  Bill nodded, 
and went back to his viewfinder.
   When, several 'acts' later Ray had still not appeared, Harry called a 
stagehand over and whispered in his ear.  "Tell Ray to get his ass over 
here -- he's got a job to do.  I don't care how hungover he is!"  The 
aide hurried out the door -- just as Princess entered.  Harry's eyes 
instantly went to her.
   Her plain clothes had been replaced by a cotton nightshirt, hanging 
to her knees.  Harry caught himself staring at the hem of her shirt, 
certain that there was nothing underneath.  Beside her loomed a shaggy 
Newfoundland.  The dog sat down without a word from the girl, loyal and 
attentive.
   Princess looked around the room, no longer shy but determined, and 
moved towards the stage.  A clap on her thigh signalled the dog to 
follow.  She sat down on the stage bed, and began running her fingers 
through the big dog's fur.  Slowly and tenderly, without any regard for 
her schedule, she scratched the Newfie's neck and shoulders.
   Something inside Harry told him that this scene would sell.  "Bill, 
turn on the camera."
   "uh, Harry, she's not even naked yet..."
   "Do it."  Harry leaned forward, interested in how this innocent would 
perform.
   Princess and her dog ignored everyone in the studio, intent upon each 
other.  She scratched his sides, making him puff out his chest and 
snuffle the bed beside her.  Expertly, she stroked her fingernails 
through the Newfie's tail and over his back, following the flowing 
curves.  A light hand travelled along his soft chest, gently caressing 
the dog's black sheath.  She continued to scratch innocently and fondle 
seductively, until he turned to face her.  His muzzle explored the hem 
of her nightshirt -- his huge brown eyes looked at her questioningly.
   Harry held his breath as Princess pulled up her shirt.  A plain body, 
but a pretty one, revealed itself, and the big dog sniffed her exposed 
flesh.  She leaned forwards to let him reach her breasts, and he slurped 
at them delicately.  She smiled, and reached further beneath him.  The 
Newfie's thick fur hid most of the action along his belly.  Occasionally 
her hand, wrapped around a bulging sheath, pulsed into view.
   The Newfoundland, bent almost double, tried to sniff closer to 
Princess' groin.  The angle proved to be wrong, and the big dog could 
not move his muzzle into position without denying her access to his 
belly.  So he stepped back, disengaging from her -- and then, wagging 
his shaggy tail, headed nose first between her legs.  Princess smiled, 
and looked around at the assembled people.
   Most of the stage hands were busy, running in circles.  The scene 
director was chatting with another performer in a loose negligee.  Bill 
the cameraman had a magazine between his legs, and looked up only 
seldomly to check focus.
   Harry watched, eyes locked on this girl.  Princess made no notice of 
his attention.  The Newfoundland nuzzled her crotch, lapping at her 
labia with his wide, wet tongue.  She scratched behind his ears and 
whispered encouragement.  Needing none, the big dog continued washing 
her sex in earnest.  The flat tongue stroked her glans and she shivered.  
The next few licks slid deeply into her, the dog slowing his tempo as 
his mistress' hands tightened on his jowls, and her jaw dropped into a 
smile.
   Harry could not believe she had just had an orgasm.  Not a single 
yell, or thrashing of her hair.  Never before, not in front of his 
camera...  Actresses like that just didn't get the part.  Yet he found 
the change pleasing -- incredibly so.
   Princess lifted her dog's head, and they stared into each other's 
eyes for a second.  Then, licking his chops, the Newfie placed his front 
legs on her lap and moved towards her.  She fell back, pulling the furry 
monster over her torso.  The dog's thick cock was barely visible between 
the pair as he pressed himself into her.
   In the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Bill zooming into a crotch-
only shot.  He spoke from the corner of his mouth, eyes forward.  "Bill, 
get a wide shot.  Full view."  Bill grumbled about knowing how to shoot 
a scene, but complied.
   Doggie bucked and rocked, his nose pointed upwards, smiling and 
panting with his thrusts.  Only his balls, slapping between his lover's 
thighs, could be seen now -- his length was totally within her, and his 
motions became faster and shallower as he was caught deep within.
   Princess, bending her legs around the big dog, was trying to pull him 
in deeper.  She gripped his fur, straining, and smiled.  The Newfie 
panted out a few more powerful thrusts, and she arched her back, 
pressing herself into his fur.  Shortly, spent but locked within her, 
Newfie started licking the sweat off her neck, as she caressed him, eyes 
closed and smiling.
   Finally Harry was able to tear his eyes away.  Fear hit him -- fear 
that everyone would see the way he was staring at the two lovers.  He 
carefully avoided staring, stood up with difficulty, and called over 
another aide.
   "Look...find Ray.  Tell him...tell him I'm sorry...he's got the day 
off."  Harry turned to the cameraman as the aide walked away.  "Bill, 
keep that camera rolling through the tie for me.  Push the schedule back 
if you have to.  And...bring the tape to my cabin, when you have a 
break, okay?  Thanks, Bill."  Bill shrugged and went back to his 
reading.
   Harry walked, stiffly, from the set.  Blushing, he made his way to 
his cabin, confused about the scene he had just witnessed and his 
reaction.  But as he limped, painfully, towards his cabin, he did manage 
to wonder when and why he had started wearing briefs...