Post by Fenrir on Jul 6, 2020 5:56:05 GMT -8
The Martial Art of the Endorsement: White Belt | 1 Star Mission (2000 Words Requirement | Must have at least 2 Global Rep)- Some martial artists find they don't have the time to hold a steady job down. Who wants to be flipping burgers, wearing a suit and tie and being security for a dignitary, or pulling out giant mutant radishes from the ground? No one who's a martial artist, on average – and that's a survey taken from those who both are martial artists by natural skill, luck, or hard work. But there's another way out there! Appearing in commercials and ads! What business doesn't want to be tied to a World Martial Artist Tournament class fighter? For now, you're just going to be in small scale ads, though. Tillerby's Fine Toupees and Wigs, Jenny's Beastman Salon, Big Joe Kendrick Brand Ostrich Chicken Jerky. Small brands that need your charisma and skill to propel them further! Rewards: 50,000 Zeni, one roll of a 1d12. If it lands on a 11 or a 12, you get one rank of 'Celebrity' and your rewards are doubled because one or more of your advertisements went viral. In addition if it goes viral, roll a 1d100 – this is not a treasure roll; on a roll of 1-5 or 95-100, you automatically gain entry into the next World Martial Arts Tournament.
There was a lot of people out on the street that day. Cars drove up and down the street in perfect rhythm with the people crossing from one side of the street to the other. The light turned red, the crosswalk sign flashed, and people would flow across the street, stepping over brightly painted white lines, quicker than a cut can bleed. Men walked down the street, their bodies carried with a certain sense of sureness, of testosterone fueled arrogance, and women appeared to flutter down the street, talking to each other, giggling occasionally, as they peered from one shop to the next. Their eyes dwelling on beautiful frocks and peacoat dresses with glimmering buttons. Children were there as well, ducking and weaving between the adults, laughing and playing, and reveling in the wonders of youth.
Then there was the wolf. The nearly seven foot tall man, clad in new clothes for a change; he had never worn a shirt before - or at the very least, he hadn't worn a full shirt. He always wore a vest, an open jacket or coat, that draped themselves over his shoulders and left his neck and chest and stomach exposed. This time, he wore a shirt. It felt snug around his chest and it was comfortable but at the same time he wanted to tear the thing off. It felt restrictive.
Aside from the shirt - which was a simple white shirt, over which he wore a tiger stripe jacket which cut off at the midriff - he wore a pair of simple jeans. They were held up by two belts, studded and crisscrossed as they wrapped around his waist. How he got these clothes were a story for another time; but the long and short of it included a hostel, a married couple, two bottles of fine wine, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, and a cracked wall. His own clothes had been stolen by the husband and Fenrir was left with the man's clothing and thus...that is how he stood there, wearing an outfit that he would normally not buy for himself.
He was standing in front of a store; nothing particularly fancy. The large display case held his attention and he was looking past the crystal clear glass at the objects being shown off for sale on a perfectly appointed display case.
"Are you sure you don't need help with that?" A concerned man's voice rose up from the din of the crowd around him.
"I'm fine, I can handle it." A woman responded, the voices growing closer as their conversation continued.
There was a moment of silence, followed by a surprised yelp, and, "Look out!" The man called out loud. There was a sudden gasp from everyone in the vicinity and it was at that point that Fenrir turned around; peeled his attention away from the display case and its numerous interesting items that he, at the moment, had no money to buy, and faced the source of all the ruckus.
The great white wolf quickly turned. SPLASH. A wave of water splashed down across the man's chest, neck, and shoulders; it washed down over his stomach and some even managed to splash up into his face. But, his arms shot forward and the source of the water, the source of the ruckus, was captured. Or, more like, she was caught. The woman had lost her balance; her wooden sandal had gotten stuck on a small crack in the sidewalk, an imperfection that until that moment had gone unnoticed as if it were a silent killer waiting to pounce, a stealthy predator unnoticed until it was too late. She had lost her balance and the water? Well, she had been carrying a large clay jar full of it. The jar had been perched precariously on her shoulder and she was carrying it well, as she was used to since childhood. Now, the jar lay on the ground, shattered into a thousand pieces, and she was in the arms of the now soaking wet light blue haired man who towered over her, her husband, and everyone around them by nearly two feet.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," the woman repeated as she bowed up to the tall man once she was out of his arms.
"Eh, no need to worry. These aren't my clothes anyway," He looked at the soaked shirt which had, due to the fact that it was now a soaked white shirt, clung to his torso like a second skin and become all but transparent, "I've been wanting an excuse to take this thing off."
Wait, what? "Eh?" The woman was confused and could only stare, blood flowing up into her face as her cheeks burned red hot, as several women stopped to watch - as did several men - as he slipped the jacket off his shoulders and then pulled the shirt up and over his head, revealing inch after inch of naked wet skin underneath until the shirt was fully removed and gripped in his hand, dripping down to the ground. "I...I..."
The light haired wolf ran his hand through his hair as a small smirk crossed his face, his eyes raising to fall on the woman as he shrugged, fingers intertwined in his hair which was slicked back, "It's fine. I feel more comfortable this way."
"Move, move, move out of the way!" The crowd was suddenly parted. A woman burst through the group, catching the attention of everyone, including the now - once again - topless Fenrir. Ah, the universe was once again in perfect balance. "You," the woman pointed at the shirtless man. She was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, which matched the dark lipstick and nail color she had chosen, as well as the pinstriped power suit she had on. "You, you, you're perfect."
"Perfect? Well, I've never been called that before," The man looked at the woman with mild confusion.
"Look at him," The woman disregarded that, turning to look at a man that burst through the crowd and stood beside her, his eyes glazing over Fenrir with the same expression as the woman's, except the wolf could actually see his eyes. They were regarding his frame in the same manner that starved wolves regarded a piece of steak hanging off a hook.
"You're not kidding. Sir, have you ever considered modeling? You would be a natural, I'm sure. Come with us, we have been looking for the perfect person to help us with a series of advertisements and we think you're the one we've been searching for."
"Never thought I'd be a model, no," Fenrir commented as the idea was put forth before him.
"Well, follow me and we'll do a few test screenings. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out and we'll pay you a small fee for your trouble. If it works out, well I hope you're prepared to see yourself on billboards all over the world."
The studio that they took him to was not particularly extravagant. In fact, the structure didn't even stand out among those that stood around it. It was situated between two five story buildings. In fact, to Fenrir it almost looked as if the structure had been built in between the two taller buildings out of spite, or as an afterthought. It was two stories tall and the building was rather nondescript. It's most prominent feature was a large metal entrance door. Beyond the door was a simple lobby; they walked through it, through several thresholds beyond, and down a set of stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs there were several studios; the one they entered was labeled "HATCHET."
"This is where we'll be doing our test screenings. As you can see, we built a whole set." The woman led the way, motioning to the set; it was a bathroom. The floor was tiled, there was a large glass encased shower, there was a vanity, a toilet, a mirror, the whole works to make the audience believe that this was a real bathroom. In fact, it looked as if someone had taken a bathroom right out of a five star hotel and dropped it in this room.
"The shower works, of course. It is part of the advertisement. Now, go through those doors over there, you'll find the dressing room. In there is what you'll need to wear for the ad. Come out, and we'll get everything set up."
"Hm, I don't mind, but do you have a name? I followed you all the way here and we have not been properly introduced."
"Oh, how rude of me. The name is Peppa. This is my associate, Sal. We're going to be running test screenings for various different advertisements, various companies paid us to find people to be spokesmen for their brand. You look like you would work perfectly for this."
"Are you ready?" Peppa called out, sitting by the cameraman.
"Yeah," Fenrir stepped into the room. He had a white towel wrapped securely around his waist. His entire upper body was bare and he walked, barefoot, across the room, on the smooth cold cement flooring, toward the bathroom set, "So, how would this work?"
The cameraman sputtered a bit, staring at the nearly seven foot tall man standing before him, towel hanging just barely above legal level at his hips, "Y....You're going to...uh. We're going to..."
"Are you speechless?" Sal teased the cameraman.
"Shut up. Ok. So, you're going to walk into the shot, through that door, pretend like its your bathroom, alright? Check yourself out in the mirror, you know, morning routine. Then drop the towel; we'll have the camera aimed down at her legs and feet, so we'll see from the knees down, see the towel hit the floor. Then you step into the shower. We'll do a jump cut up. Give the illusion that you're naked. See? That simple, you're going to turn on the water and start washing up. This is a commercial for HATCHET body wash, so yeah, obviously, you'll be showering."
"That sounds simple enough." The white wolf nodded and moved around the set to the door that opened into the bathroom.
"When we say 'action', come on in." The cameraman sat at his chair, the crew was hard at work getting everything perfect, lighting, sound, recording equipment, all in perfect order and ready to roll, "Alright, action."
The light haired man stepped in through the bathroom door. It felt natural to him. The cool floor tile of the bathroom set on his feet felt as if he were walking in his own private bathroom rather than standing on a set built specifically for a commercial. He shut the door behind him, walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection, rubbing his jaw, looking himself over. A small smirk crossed his face then he walked over to the shower.
It was the moment of truth. The camera smoothly panned down to his feet, and the towel slipped off his hips.
"WHOA!?" The cameraman's face went beet red. Sal sputtered up his coffee. And Peppa spun around so fast on her heels that she almost whipped her partner, Sal, in the face with her long hair.
As soon as the towel slipped off the tall muscular man's hips and waist, they were treated to the pure naked view of his backside. Two firm well rounded glutes, in no way covered away by the briefs that had been provided to him in the changing room. Fenrir stepped into the shower and peered over his shoulder at the group, "Is something wrong?"
"Where's the briefs that were laid out for you in the dressing room?" Peppa cleared her throat, though she did not turn to look at the man, her face burning hot.
"They weren't my size. Plus, it didn't make sense for me to wear a pair of briefs into a shower. So, are we going to continue filming?" He almost turned to face them.
"It's fine! You don't have to turn around. Just... We'll keep filming. We'll just do the editing as we were normally going to do it. Alright. Let's try another take, and then we'll see how it goes."
WC: 2,040
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
There was a lot of people out on the street that day. Cars drove up and down the street in perfect rhythm with the people crossing from one side of the street to the other. The light turned red, the crosswalk sign flashed, and people would flow across the street, stepping over brightly painted white lines, quicker than a cut can bleed. Men walked down the street, their bodies carried with a certain sense of sureness, of testosterone fueled arrogance, and women appeared to flutter down the street, talking to each other, giggling occasionally, as they peered from one shop to the next. Their eyes dwelling on beautiful frocks and peacoat dresses with glimmering buttons. Children were there as well, ducking and weaving between the adults, laughing and playing, and reveling in the wonders of youth.
Then there was the wolf. The nearly seven foot tall man, clad in new clothes for a change; he had never worn a shirt before - or at the very least, he hadn't worn a full shirt. He always wore a vest, an open jacket or coat, that draped themselves over his shoulders and left his neck and chest and stomach exposed. This time, he wore a shirt. It felt snug around his chest and it was comfortable but at the same time he wanted to tear the thing off. It felt restrictive.
Aside from the shirt - which was a simple white shirt, over which he wore a tiger stripe jacket which cut off at the midriff - he wore a pair of simple jeans. They were held up by two belts, studded and crisscrossed as they wrapped around his waist. How he got these clothes were a story for another time; but the long and short of it included a hostel, a married couple, two bottles of fine wine, a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, and a cracked wall. His own clothes had been stolen by the husband and Fenrir was left with the man's clothing and thus...that is how he stood there, wearing an outfit that he would normally not buy for himself.
He was standing in front of a store; nothing particularly fancy. The large display case held his attention and he was looking past the crystal clear glass at the objects being shown off for sale on a perfectly appointed display case.
"Are you sure you don't need help with that?" A concerned man's voice rose up from the din of the crowd around him.
"I'm fine, I can handle it." A woman responded, the voices growing closer as their conversation continued.
There was a moment of silence, followed by a surprised yelp, and, "Look out!" The man called out loud. There was a sudden gasp from everyone in the vicinity and it was at that point that Fenrir turned around; peeled his attention away from the display case and its numerous interesting items that he, at the moment, had no money to buy, and faced the source of all the ruckus.
The great white wolf quickly turned. SPLASH. A wave of water splashed down across the man's chest, neck, and shoulders; it washed down over his stomach and some even managed to splash up into his face. But, his arms shot forward and the source of the water, the source of the ruckus, was captured. Or, more like, she was caught. The woman had lost her balance; her wooden sandal had gotten stuck on a small crack in the sidewalk, an imperfection that until that moment had gone unnoticed as if it were a silent killer waiting to pounce, a stealthy predator unnoticed until it was too late. She had lost her balance and the water? Well, she had been carrying a large clay jar full of it. The jar had been perched precariously on her shoulder and she was carrying it well, as she was used to since childhood. Now, the jar lay on the ground, shattered into a thousand pieces, and she was in the arms of the now soaking wet light blue haired man who towered over her, her husband, and everyone around them by nearly two feet.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," the woman repeated as she bowed up to the tall man once she was out of his arms.
"Eh, no need to worry. These aren't my clothes anyway," He looked at the soaked shirt which had, due to the fact that it was now a soaked white shirt, clung to his torso like a second skin and become all but transparent, "I've been wanting an excuse to take this thing off."
Wait, what? "Eh?" The woman was confused and could only stare, blood flowing up into her face as her cheeks burned red hot, as several women stopped to watch - as did several men - as he slipped the jacket off his shoulders and then pulled the shirt up and over his head, revealing inch after inch of naked wet skin underneath until the shirt was fully removed and gripped in his hand, dripping down to the ground. "I...I..."
The light haired wolf ran his hand through his hair as a small smirk crossed his face, his eyes raising to fall on the woman as he shrugged, fingers intertwined in his hair which was slicked back, "It's fine. I feel more comfortable this way."
"Move, move, move out of the way!" The crowd was suddenly parted. A woman burst through the group, catching the attention of everyone, including the now - once again - topless Fenrir. Ah, the universe was once again in perfect balance. "You," the woman pointed at the shirtless man. She was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, which matched the dark lipstick and nail color she had chosen, as well as the pinstriped power suit she had on. "You, you, you're perfect."
"Perfect? Well, I've never been called that before," The man looked at the woman with mild confusion.
"Look at him," The woman disregarded that, turning to look at a man that burst through the crowd and stood beside her, his eyes glazing over Fenrir with the same expression as the woman's, except the wolf could actually see his eyes. They were regarding his frame in the same manner that starved wolves regarded a piece of steak hanging off a hook.
"You're not kidding. Sir, have you ever considered modeling? You would be a natural, I'm sure. Come with us, we have been looking for the perfect person to help us with a series of advertisements and we think you're the one we've been searching for."
"Never thought I'd be a model, no," Fenrir commented as the idea was put forth before him.
"Well, follow me and we'll do a few test screenings. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out and we'll pay you a small fee for your trouble. If it works out, well I hope you're prepared to see yourself on billboards all over the world."
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The studio that they took him to was not particularly extravagant. In fact, the structure didn't even stand out among those that stood around it. It was situated between two five story buildings. In fact, to Fenrir it almost looked as if the structure had been built in between the two taller buildings out of spite, or as an afterthought. It was two stories tall and the building was rather nondescript. It's most prominent feature was a large metal entrance door. Beyond the door was a simple lobby; they walked through it, through several thresholds beyond, and down a set of stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs there were several studios; the one they entered was labeled "HATCHET."
"This is where we'll be doing our test screenings. As you can see, we built a whole set." The woman led the way, motioning to the set; it was a bathroom. The floor was tiled, there was a large glass encased shower, there was a vanity, a toilet, a mirror, the whole works to make the audience believe that this was a real bathroom. In fact, it looked as if someone had taken a bathroom right out of a five star hotel and dropped it in this room.
"The shower works, of course. It is part of the advertisement. Now, go through those doors over there, you'll find the dressing room. In there is what you'll need to wear for the ad. Come out, and we'll get everything set up."
"Hm, I don't mind, but do you have a name? I followed you all the way here and we have not been properly introduced."
"Oh, how rude of me. The name is Peppa. This is my associate, Sal. We're going to be running test screenings for various different advertisements, various companies paid us to find people to be spokesmen for their brand. You look like you would work perfectly for this."
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Are you ready?" Peppa called out, sitting by the cameraman.
"Yeah," Fenrir stepped into the room. He had a white towel wrapped securely around his waist. His entire upper body was bare and he walked, barefoot, across the room, on the smooth cold cement flooring, toward the bathroom set, "So, how would this work?"
The cameraman sputtered a bit, staring at the nearly seven foot tall man standing before him, towel hanging just barely above legal level at his hips, "Y....You're going to...uh. We're going to..."
"Are you speechless?" Sal teased the cameraman.
"Shut up. Ok. So, you're going to walk into the shot, through that door, pretend like its your bathroom, alright? Check yourself out in the mirror, you know, morning routine. Then drop the towel; we'll have the camera aimed down at her legs and feet, so we'll see from the knees down, see the towel hit the floor. Then you step into the shower. We'll do a jump cut up. Give the illusion that you're naked. See? That simple, you're going to turn on the water and start washing up. This is a commercial for HATCHET body wash, so yeah, obviously, you'll be showering."
"That sounds simple enough." The white wolf nodded and moved around the set to the door that opened into the bathroom.
"When we say 'action', come on in." The cameraman sat at his chair, the crew was hard at work getting everything perfect, lighting, sound, recording equipment, all in perfect order and ready to roll, "Alright, action."
The light haired man stepped in through the bathroom door. It felt natural to him. The cool floor tile of the bathroom set on his feet felt as if he were walking in his own private bathroom rather than standing on a set built specifically for a commercial. He shut the door behind him, walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection, rubbing his jaw, looking himself over. A small smirk crossed his face then he walked over to the shower.
It was the moment of truth. The camera smoothly panned down to his feet, and the towel slipped off his hips.
"WHOA!?" The cameraman's face went beet red. Sal sputtered up his coffee. And Peppa spun around so fast on her heels that she almost whipped her partner, Sal, in the face with her long hair.
As soon as the towel slipped off the tall muscular man's hips and waist, they were treated to the pure naked view of his backside. Two firm well rounded glutes, in no way covered away by the briefs that had been provided to him in the changing room. Fenrir stepped into the shower and peered over his shoulder at the group, "Is something wrong?"
"Where's the briefs that were laid out for you in the dressing room?" Peppa cleared her throat, though she did not turn to look at the man, her face burning hot.
"They weren't my size. Plus, it didn't make sense for me to wear a pair of briefs into a shower. So, are we going to continue filming?" He almost turned to face them.
"It's fine! You don't have to turn around. Just... We'll keep filming. We'll just do the editing as we were normally going to do it. Alright. Let's try another take, and then we'll see how it goes."
WC: 2,040