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The Mask	By : Operafreak Category: Individual Celebrities > Gerard Butler Views: 3434 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Mask
- 2-Julia Roberts
- 1
- 2
The Mask

Gerard checked his wrist watch and sighed, it was time for him to get ready for tonight’s award ceremony. He went to the bathroom and slowly removed his clothing, he studied his naked form in the large mirror, and he felt a surgical urge in his groin as he was aroused by himself. He growled aggressively at his perfect reflection wishing that he had a twin to play with. He switched on his shower and immediately jumped in a desperate need to feel his aching member and clasp it in his fist. He rubbed the sensual oils onto his buttocks and frontal area, pleasuring himself at the same time. He gripped his aching member and stroked it, groaning as he did so, watching himself in the mirrored tiles of the shower room. He came hard spraying his ball butter all over the tiles.

He washed it away and swore loudly as the doorbell rang. He rushed out of the bathroom as naked as the day he was born. His semi-erect member flapping in the wind as there was a hole in the roof because he was staying in a theme hotel. His chosen theme room was a recreation of an Anglo-Saxon house, like where he grew up.

He thrust open the door to reveal a dancing female nudey robot dancing around a sealed package the wrapping was the international homosexual colour purple this frightened him, but he took the parcel from her and shut the door in her face.

Gerard tore the wrappings from the package, carefully and looked inside the box. “Fucking freaks,” he cursed as he pulled out a white phantom of the opera mask, but it was not quite the same as the one he had worn for the movie, he thought nothing of it at the time and threw it on the floor and went to get dressed. He totally missed the white card that fell out of the box onto the floor.

It read “A gift from a friend and fellow Phantom It has given me many hours of pleasure, and I hope it will do the same for you, Michael Crawford,”

Gerard pulled on his jacket and adjusted his tie. He smiled at his reflection, he started to get aroused by his reflection again, but deciding he looked presentable he took the card key for his hotel and was about to leave when the white mask caught his eye again. He picked it up, something was urging him to put it on, he was about to do so when the horn of the black limo that was waiting outside for him blared. He put the mask away in the jacket pocket of his suit and exited the hotel. After a short car ride, he was at the red carpet of the Golden Globes award ceremony.

The flash of cameras was all around him, but no one seemed to recognise him or his superstar status. He sighed; he had really hoped that the Phantom of the Opera would be his break through movie, after taking so many roles beneath him like Attila, where he had had to wear a diaper for most of the movie. And his two lines that he had had in that James Bond movie. The real low point he had felt had been last year when he had to star in a movie with Angelina Jolie, something tomb raider or other. He knew he should have worn his phantom costume, and then people would have recognised him instantly.

Suddenly he remembered the mask in his suit pocket; maybe all was not lost after all. He looked around, and as he suspected, no one was looking at him so he took the mask out of his coat and slowly he put it onto his face, its magic calling to him in a quasi sexual way.

He looked through the eye holes. He could see the red carpet through them. Suddenly he gripped it firmly imagining it was his pleading fat sausage. He used his masculine muscles to lift the feather light mask to his unnoticed face, when suddenly a teenage grotesque looking fengurl, advanced on him, who weighed a ton and was covered in acne, fungi, scabs, mucus, sweat, manure and a strange slime substance. She was wearing a hunchback of Notre dame costume as that was the only one that came in her size. She came rolling like a fat obese sumo wrestling whale toward him. The ground shook and buildings began to crumble away, but no one thought anything of it. Suddenly she let loose a huge fart knocking everyone one with in 100 miles of the perimeter to their feet. As she neared him, Gerry sighed, he knew this was
it; his days as a movie star were numbered. Better to go out in style than not, he thought to himself as he placed the mask on his exasperated face.

He was totally unprepared for what happened next, instead of being crushed to death by the advancing fengurl, named Galen. Lightening flashed and he felt his body began to rotate uncontrollably. He could see an interview being conducted behind him with Samuel L. Jackson but still no one noticed the sexual Scotsman spinning around on the red carpet. He felt his pants being ripped from his body as he felt fresh air on his naked cock. He looked down as a kilt replaced his missing garments and he wore it in the traditional Scottish way with no underwear. Suddenly all cameras were turned towards him as his skirt flew high, giving all the women a view of his naked Willy. The fat fengurl Galen was pushed out of the way, by all the screaming women as they ran towards Gerry.

The spinning stopped, and he ran away, he found he could run much faster than he normally did, but he thought nothing of it at the time, until he was safely in the washrooms at the golden globes. He looked in the mirror and tried to pull the mask from his face, but it would not budge. He grinned evilly and felt a sudden urge to maim and kill just like the phantom of the opera did. First he had to find his co-star Emmy Rossum and give her something the Phantom never had a chance to. His Kilt was already tenting at the idea.

He laughed manically at the reflection in the mirror. “Somebody stop me,” he said as he ran out of the restroom in search of Emmy.

TBC
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The Mask